MRS. 


TREGASKISS 


MRS.   TREGASKISS 


A   NOl/EL   OF  ANGLO-AUSTRALIAN  LIFE 


BY 

MRS.    CAMPBELL-PRAED 

AUTHOR    OF 
OUTLAW    AND    LAWMAKER,    CHRISTINA    CHARD,    ETC. 


NEW     YORK 

D.     APPLETON    AND    COMPANY 
1895 


COPYRIGHT,  1895, 
BY  D.  APPLETON  AND  COMPANY. 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER 

PASS 

I. 

COMING  HOME,        

1 

II. 

DR.  GENESTE  

11 

III. 

UNMATED,           

26 

IV. 

THE  STORY  OF  CLARE  GARDYNE, 

40 

V. 

OVER  THE  PLAINS,          

55 

VI. 

How  LONG  I    How  LONG  1         .... 

65 

VII. 

THE  CUSACKS,          .        .        .        . 

79 

VIII. 

RETROSPECTIVE,          

.      92 

IX. 

IN  THE  GARDEN,     

105 

X. 

LIGHT  ON  THE  TRAGEDY  

.     115 

XL 

MOUNT  WOMBO,      

123 

XII. 

OLD  CYRUS  CHANCE,  

.     134 

XIII. 

BLANCHARD'S  ROMANCE,         

147 

XIV. 

"ENGLISH  MAIL,"       

.     161 

XV. 

DOWN  WITH  FEVER,       

171 

XVI. 

"  You  OUGHT  NOT  TO  HAVE  SAID  THAT," 

.    185 

XVII. 

FAIR  INES,       

198 

XVIII. 

CLARE'S  Vow,      

.    214 

XIX. 

THE  "  SPECIALS  "  ON  DUTY,    

228 

XX. 

GLADYS  PLEADS,          

.    241 

XXI. 

THE  FIRE  

255 

XXII. 

"  WE  UNDERSTAND  EACH  OTHER,"    . 

.     262 

XXIII. 

JUST  A  MAN  

274 

iii 

IV 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER  PAGE 

XXIV.  POOR  MRS.  CABMODY,      .        .        .       .  .288 

XXV.  THE  END  OF  THE  STRIKE, 301 

XXVI.  AT  DARRA-DARRA,  .        .        ...       .       .  .314 

XXVII.  "You  MAKE  ME  HATE  You!"    ....  324 

XXVIII.  "  TURN  AGAIN,  FAIR  INES  !"   .       .;       .        .  .    335 

XXIX.  IT  is  A  PLEDGE .       .  346 

XXX.  OUTSIDE  THE  CAVK          .                       . '     .  .    361 

XXXI.  THE  PENALTY, .  370 

XXXII.  "THE  WORLD  BETWEEN  Us,"        .       ....    379 

XXXIII.  HUSBAND  AND  WIFE,  388 


MRS.  TREGASKISS. 


CHAPTER  I. 

COMING    HOME. 

CLARE  TREGASKISS  was  coming  home  with  her  two  chil- 
dren— a  girl  of  six  and  a  baby  in  arms.  She  had  just 
arrived  at  the  Cedar  Hill  Terminus  on  the  new  railway 
line  "  out  West." 

Why  had  they  called  it  Cedar  Hill  ?  Thus  she  vaguely 
wondered  as  the  train  crawled  toward  the  station,  through 
a  sandy  plain  in  which  there  was  neither  hill  nor  sign  of 
cedar  tree  visible.  There  seemed  nothing  between  the 
great  flat  and  the  horizon,  except  a  belt  of  gidia  scrub, 
marking  the  course  of  a  creek,  or  a  straggling  cluster  of 
tall  coolabah  trees,  or  the  shape  of  an  incoming  bullock 
dray  showing  grotesquely  against  the  hot  steely  sky.  The 
plain  was  a  desolate  thirsty  expanse  of  burned  up  grass  and 
withered  shrubs  of  the  prickly  lignum  vitae,  with  here  and 
there  a  stunted  sandal-wood  or  brigalow  tree,  the  sleepers 
of  the  railway  cutting  it  in  two  straight  lines,  till  they 
ended  at  a  row  of  zinc  sheds,  beside  which  the  train 
halted. 

The  sun  beat  pitilessly  upon  the  corrugated  roofs  and 
walls  of  the  sheds,  which  were  something  of  the  same 
colour  as  the  sky  ;  and  the  dust  from  the  plain  made  a 
brownish-yellow  haze  above  the  flooring  within  them, 
where  were  piled  bales  of  wool  which  had  been  brought 
down  from  up-country  by  drays,  and  were  waiting  trans- 
port to  the  coast,  each  compact  heap  having  its  own  distinc- 


2  MRS.   TREGASKISS. 

live  brand  or  initial,  to  indicate  the  owner  of  the  sheep 
station  whence  it  had  come.  Outside  the  sheds  lay  rubbish 
left  by  the  railway  workers — mounds  of  caked  soil,  scattered 
logs  and  planks,  slabs  of  zinc,  lengths  of  rusty  iron,  and 
disused  implements.  Several  goods  waggons  were  drawn 
up  at  a  siding,  tarpaulin-covered,  and  loaded  with  bales  of 
wool.  The  station  master,  in  shirt  sleeves,  and  a  couple  of 
grimy  porters  were  waiting  on  the  platform  ;  and  a  small 
crowd  of  rough,  bearded  men,  mostly  in  moleskins  and 
Crimean  shirts,  open  at  the  breast,  with  one  or  two  among 
them  of  the  squatter  order  in  thin  alapaca  coats,  pressed 
forward  to  meet  certain  feminine  arrivals,  of  whom  several 
were,  on  the  face  of  things,  barmaids.  None  of  these  men 
had  come  to  meet  Mrs.  Tregaskiss  ;  she  discovered  this 
fact  in  a  rapid  glance  along  the  platform,  and  waited  till 
the  crowd  had  dispersed  and  the  station  was  comparatively 
quiet.  From  outside  the  railway  sheds  came  the  sound  of 
clanking  yokes  and  chains,  of  cracking  whips  and  bullock- 
drivers'  oaths  ;  and  as  Mrs.  Tregaskiss  passed  out,  she  saw 
an  array  of  drays  drawn  up.  Some  were  tilted  and  in 
process  of  unloading,  others  were  having  their  beasts 
unyoked  ;  some  had  small  tents  erected  on  top  of  the  wool 
bales,  and  carried  the  wives  and  families  of  the  bullock- 
drivers,  and  more  than  one  was  followed  by  two  or  three 
goats  to  supply  milk  for  the  children  ;  others  were  just 
coming  in  from  the  bush — strange,  lumbering,  top-heavy 
masses  drawn  by  teams  of  fifteen,  twenty,  and  even  twenty- 
four  bullocks,  with  heads  bent  under  the  yoke,  heaving 
flanks,  lolling  tongues,  and  streaming  saliva  making  a 
viscous  trail  on  the  dusty  road.  Their  drivers  walked 
beside  them,  dust-caked,  sunburned,  knotty-looking  fellows, 
beaded  with  perspiration,  arms  and  chests  bare,  and  with 
greasy  hats  and  limp  puggarees.  They  goaded  on  the 
tired  animals,  which  turned  and  butted  and  gave  weary 
bellows,  with  mighty  lashings  of  the  thick,  thonged  whip 
and  much  blasphemous  shouting. 


COMING  HOME.  3 

At  the  opening  of  the  sheds  Mrs.  Tregaskiss  again  stood 
still  for  a  minute  or  two,  and  looked  to  her  right  and  to  her 
left.  She  seemed  to  be  searching  for  someone  not  to  be 
found.  There  was  a  faint  trace  of  apprehension  in  her 
wide-open  brown  eyes,  and  she  breathed  a  little  sigh,  half 
impatient,  half  relieved,  while  her  lips  gave  an  involuntary 
twitch  that  weakened  momentarily  the  steadfast  curves  of 
her  finely  modelled  mouth.  It  was  a  curious  mouth,  with 
a  patient,  melancholy  smile,  and  something  fixed  and 
inscrutable  in  its  expression,  which,  combined  with  the 
sensitive  lines  at  the  corners  and  the  quickly  dilating 
nostrils  above,  suggested  emotional  forces  hidden  under  a 
sedulous  reserve. 

She  looked  out  on  a  dusty  road  bordered  by  zinc  houses, 
with  patches  of  brown  grass,  and  here  and  there  a  parched 
gidia  tree  between  the  enclosures.  The  very  vegetation 
gave  an  impression  of  thirst  and  glare.  An  hibiscus  shrub, 
flaunting  its  red  blossoms,  was  an  offence  to  the  eye,  which 
found  relief  only  in  a  green  passion  vine  or  native  cucum- 
ber struggling  up  a  bough-shade  of  withered  branches. 
The  zinc  buildings  threw  out  cruel  diamond  gleams.  All 
the  houses  at  Cedar  Hill  were  of  zinc — they  had  travelled 
up  the  line  to  each  successive  terminus,  and  as  the  line 
went  westward,  would  be  packed  up  and  carried  to  the 
next  township.  There  was  a  store,  a  zinc  lock-up,  a  few 
dwelling  huts,  and  all  the  rest  of  the  buildings  were  public- 
houses.  Fifteen,  there  were  in  all — each  with  its  due  com- 
plement of  rowdies  :  bullock-drivers,  fencers,  shearers, 
stockmen,  diggers,  shepherds  "  on  the  burst,"  and  the  mis- 
cellaneous riff-raff  which  collects  in  a  Northern  township. 
An  odd  background  for  a  lady,  who  somehow  gave  the 
idea  that  she  had  been  born  and  brought  up  among  all 
the  subtleties  of  an  Old  World  civilisation.  To  a  certain 
extent  this  was  the  case,  but  as  a  matter  of  fact  Clare 
Tregaskiss  was  quite  familiar  with  Bush  life  in  its  roughest 
aspects.  For  ten  years  she  had  been  the  wife  of  a  western 


4  MRS.   TREGASKISS. 

squatter,  and  with  the  exception  of  a  winter  in  Sydney, 
and  occasional  visits  to  the  coast  township  of  Port  Victoria, 
had  lived  all  those  years  at  Mount  "Wombo  station,  in  the 
unsettled  district  of  the  Leura. 

She  was  returning  now  from  a  three-months'  stay  at  Port 
Victoria,  during  which  time  the  birth  of  her  second  living 
child  had  taken  place.  In  her  absence  the  line  had  made 
a  further  stage  ;  and  this  was  her  first  visit  to  Cedar  Hill. 

Of  the  fifteen  public-houses  there  was  one,  standing 
opposite  the  railway  sheds,  which  called  itself  the  Terminus 
Hotel,  and  had  a  claim  to  distinction  as  being  the  only 
place  in  Cedar  Hill  where  a  lady  might  find  respectable 
accommodation.  The  building  was  of  zinc  too,  but  its 
framework  was  of  wood,  and  it  had  a  double  story  and 
veranda,  while  two  tall  papaw  apple  trees  in  front  and  a 
weedy  path  of  garden  proclaimed  that  its  site  had  once  been 
occupied  by  a  shepherd's  shanty  or  a  Chinaman's  hut,  and 
took  away  from  it  somewhat  of  the  stigma  of  mushroom 
growth.  A  number  of  bushmen  were  smoking  and  drinking 
in  the  veranda,  and  several  horses  were  hitched  to  posts  out- 
side the  bar.  Mrs.  Tregaskiss  turned  to  a  black  boy  follow- 
ing her,  and  bade  him  carry  her  baggage  across  to  the  hotel. 
The  baggage  consisted  mostly  of  leather  saddle  bags, 
arranged  evidently  with  a  view  to  transit  by  pack-horse, 
but  there  were,  as  well,  a  small  flat  portmanteau,  a  baby's 
bassinette  sewn  up  in  canvas,  and  sundry  parcels,  to  be 
packed  into  the  buggy  with  which  her  husband  was  to 
meet  her  here. 

She  held  her  eldest  child  by  the  hand,  and  a  young  half- 
caste  girl,  neatly  dressed  and  wearing  uncomfortable- 
looking  new  leather  boots,  came  close  behind,  carrying  the 
baby,  who  was  crying  fretfully.  The  boots,  to  which  she 
was  unaccustomed,  hindered  her  from  walking  with  her 
native  freedom.  Mrs.  Tregaskiss  cast  back  an  occasional 
anxious  glance  at  the  half-caste  and  her  burden.  She  felt 
that  she  ought  perhaps  to  be  carrying  the  baby  herself  ; 


COMING  HOME.  5 

and  yet,  poor  thing,  it  was  pathetically  evident,  in  spite  of 
her  self-contained  calm  and  patient  attention  to  the  matter 
in  hand,  that  the  duties  of  nurse  were  not  wholly  congenial 
to  her  temperament,  and  that  possibly  the  half-caste  might 
manage  the  infant  more  dexterously  than  its  mother. 

One  of  the  bullock-drivers  coming  along  with  his  team 
suspended  a  volley  of  oaths  to  call  out : 

"  My  word  !  if  that  isn't  the  Kiddie  !  I'm  blowed  if 
she  isn't  a  bigger  beauty  than  she  was  before  she  went 
down.  Eh,  Miss  Ning  ?  Aren't  you  going  to  say,  How 
de  do,  to  Jo  Ramm?" 

The  child  piped  out  in  a  clear,  unchildlike  voice,  which 
had  a  curious  touch  of  the  blacks'  twang  : 

"  Wow  de  do,  Jo  Ramm  ?  I'se  quite  well,  thank  you. 
I'se  not  to  be  called  'Kiddie,'  it's  not  'spectful,  but," — 
graciously — "  I'll  'low  you  because  you  is  a  bullock-driver. 
What  for  you  scold  your  bullocks  so  bad  ?  Ning  not  like 
you.  Poor  bullocks  !  I  believe  that  fellow  cobbon  tired." 

She  stepped  a  pace  forward  as  if  she  were  going  to  pat 
one  of  the  foremost  beasts.  It  lifted  his  head  and  opened 
its  great  wet  mouth  in  a  bellow  which  did  not  at  all 
affright  Ning,  for  she  kept  her  ground  steadily,  while 
Ramm  prodded  the  animal  with  his  whip  and  turned  it 
toward  its  mate  from  which  it  had  been  straying.  Ning 
was  a  queer  elf-like  creature,  with  a  prominent  forehead, 
a  mass  of  curty  dark  hair,  and  beautiful  serious  brown  eyes 
— her  mother's  eyes.  The  bullock-driver  laughed  loudly 
in  delight. 

"  Bless  her  !  She  don't  know  what  fear  is,  don't  that 
Kiddie.  Beg  pardon,  Mrs.  Tregaskiss !  but  it  comes 
natural,  seeing  it's  what  her  daddy  calls  her.  Oh,  she's  a 
rare  pickaninny,  is  that  one !  And  she  haint  forgot  her 
blacks'  lingo.  You  see,  Miss  Ning,  he's  a  nasty,  ill-tem- 
pered, contrary  cuss,  is  that  old  bally  worker,  and  takes 
a  power  of  pitching  into  to  make  him  go,  or  else  stand 
still  when  he  is  wanted  to.  Yes,  you  do,  you  old — blessed 


6  MRS.   TREGASKISS. 

angel,  you  !  S'oo  !  Wo  up  there  !  I've  got  an  emu's  egg 
I've  been  keeping  for  you,  Miss  Ning,  and  I'll  fetch  it 
across  when  the  swag's  got  down." 

"Have  you  seen  anything  of  Mr.  Tregaskiss,  Ramm?" 
asked  the  lady.  She  had  a  very  sweet  rich  voice,  with  the 
Australian  plaintive  note  in  it,  and  deeper  inflections  which 
belonged  to  no  country,  unless  it  be  the  kingdom  of  sorrow. 

"Last  I  saw  of  Mr.  Tregaskiss  was  at  Brinda  Plains 
a  month  ago,  when  there  was  a  cattle  muster  going  on, 
and  all  hands  at  work,  and  I  was  fetching  rations  from 
Ilgandah.  I  believe  he  is  on  the  road  behind,  coming  down 
to  look  out  for  you,  ma'am.  That's  what  I  made  out  of 
Jemmy  the  Liar,  when  he  passed  me  this  morning  with  his 
mails.  Shouldn't  wonder  if  that's  Jemmy  coming  in  now. 
You  bet  lie  went  round  to  Flood's  Selection  for  a  drink." 

There  was  the  sound  of  hoofs  behind  and  Jemmy  Rodd 
the  mailman  came  clattering  along  on  his  raw-boned  chest- 
nut mare,  and  leading  a  flea-bitten  gray  on  which  were 
strapped  his  blanket  and  a  pile  of  leather  mail-bags.  At 
sight  of  Mrs.  Tregaskiss  he  pulled  up. 

"  Good-day,  Mrs.  Tregaskiss  !  Glad  to  see  you  back. 
Hope  you  are  pretty  well  ?  " 

"Very  well,  thank  you,  Rodd.  How  do  you  and  the 
mail  get  on  ?  " 

"  Oh,  I  keeps  my  contract  time,  ma'am — I  keeps  my 
contract  time,  in  spite  of  the  heads  of  the  creeks  coming 
down  in  a  flood  when  it's  as  dry  as  blazes  on  the  plains, 
and  the  old  chestnut  bucking  out  of  her  skin  when  you 
try  to  put  her  into  water  running  over  her  saddle- 
flaps.  Oh,  she  knows  the  Government  regulations,  that 
old  mare,  and  she  knows  it  aintin  the  Government  contract 
to  swim  creeks  above  the  flaps — no,  not  for  all  the  com- 
plaints some  bosses  choose  to  lodge  agin  the  mailman. 
But  I  should  say  he  has  made  himself  pretty  cheap  at  the 
General  Post  Office,  with  his  grumblings  and  his  blowings 
about  Brinda  Plains,  has  Mr.  Cusack." 


COMING  HOME.  7 

"Oil,  you  know  that's  Jemmy  the  Liar's  way,  ma'am," 
put  in  Ramm,  aside.  "Mr.  Cusack  may  be  a  blower, — I 
don't  deny  it, — but  to  my  sartin  knowledge  he  has  lodged 
but  one  complaint,  and  that  was  when  you  went  two  days 
on  the  burst,  Jemmy,  at  the  Coffin  Lid,  and  spoilt  him 
a  sale  through  the  mail  being  late.  As  for  the  creeks 
coming  down,  they  haint  been  down  for  over  a  year,  bad 
luck  for  the  country !  and  as  for  that  old  chestnut — the 
Leura  Terror  as  you  call  her," — and  Ramm  laughed 
derisively, — "  why,  she  haint  got  a  pig-jump  in  her,  let 
alone  a  decent  buck." 

Jemmy  the  Liar  was  evidently  accustomed  to  having 
doubts  cast  upon  his  veracity,  for  he  bore  the  reproach 
with  meekness.  Mrs.  Tregaskiss  interposed,  repeating  her 
question  to  Ramm.  "  Had  Rodd  seen  anything  of  Mr. 
Tregaskiss  ?  " 

"  I  passed  him  this  morning  camping  out  by  The  Grave, 
and  in  the  devil  of  a  fluster.  Something  started  the 
buggy  horses  in  the  night,  and  they  broke  their  hobbles 
and  bolted  clean  away  with  one  of  the  pack-horses. 
They're  young  uns,  broken  in  since  you  went  away,  and 
spankers  to  go.  Tommy  George  was  after  them  on  the 
other  pack-horse,  and  Mr.  Tregaskiss  gave  me  a  message 
for  you  that  he  hoped  to  be  down  to-night,  and  that  you 
were  to  wait  for  him  at  Ruffey's." 

"Oh,  thank  you,  Rodd  !  I  hope  everything  is  going  on 
well  on  the  Leura  ?  " 

Rodd  did  not  answer  for  a  moment.  Both  the  men 
were  gazing  at  Mrs.  Tregaskiss ;  her  voice  had  a  sort  of 
fascination  for  them.  They  said  it  was  like  music,  and 
Ramm  told  his  wife  there  were  times  when  it  went  to 
his  heart.  "  Seems  as  if  it  didn't  ought  to  belong  to  the 
bush,  somehow — has  a  kind  of  tremble  in  it  like  bottled- 
up  tears  begun  to  fizz  and  wanting  to  be  let  out."  That 
was  how  Ramm  put  it.  Jemmy  Rodd's  verdict  upon  her 
long  ago  had  been  :  "  She  is  a  real  lady,  and  none  of 


8  MRS.   TREGASKISS. 

your  jumped-up  sort — always  ready  and  obliging  with 
a  nip  when  I  brings  in  the  mail-bag  after  a  long  day,  and 
no  nasty  pride  about  her.  She  don't  mind  what  she  puts 
her  hand  to.  I've  seen  her  baking  a  batch  of  soda-bread 
in  a  camp  oven,  and  boiling  salt  junk  for  travellers  when 
there  was  no  Chinaman  in  the  kitchen,  and  the  men 
belonging  to  the  huts  camping  out." 

"How's  things  doing  on  the  Leura?"  he  repeated. 
"  Water's  pretty  scarce,  ma'am,  and  Cusack's  sheep  are 
dying,  and  he  has  put  fresh  hands  on  to  the  bores.  There's 
talk  of  a  strike  among  the  shearers,  and  we  have  got  a  new 
boss  at  Darra-Darra.  I  think  that's  about  all  the  news. 
Mount  Wombo  is  looking  fresher  as  to  grass  than  most 
places,  but,  my  word !  the  station  seems  that  miserable 
without  you,  Mrs.  Tregaskiss — it's  just  like  home  when  my 
old  woman  is  away.  But  Ah  Fat  has  got  the  garden  by 
the  waterhole  in  first  rate  order.  I  expect  you  will  be 
pleased  to  hear  that." 

"  Yes,  I  am,  indeed.  You  know  how  much  I  think  of 
the  garden,  Rodd.  Now,  good-day  1  I  am  very  much 
much  obliged  to  you  for  bringing  me  the  message.  I 
must  get  over  to  the  hotel.  Good-day,  Ramm  1  Miss 
Ning  will  be  very  delighted  with  the  emu's  egg ;  it  was 
kind  of  you  to  save  it  for  her." 

"Good-day,  Ramm  !  "  echoed  Ning,  waving  her  dis- 
engaged hand.  "Mind  you  are  good,  Ramm,  and  don't 
you  say  swear- words.  Mummy  doesn't  like  them.  And, 
please,  Ramm,  be  very  kind  to  the  poor  tired  bullocks." 

The  postman  and  the  bullock-driver  both  burst  into  a  half 
tender  laugh  as  they  watched  the  little  party  crossing  to 
the  hotel. 

"  She  is  a  queer  one,  the  pickaninny,"  said  Rodd.  "  But 
she's  got  a  taking  way  with  her — like  her  mother.  That's 
the  new  baby,  I  suppose.  Its  father  hasn't  set  eyes  on  it 
yet." 

"  If  I  had  been  Tregaskiss,  I'd  have  gone  down  to  Port 


COMING  HOME.  9 

Victoria  to  fetch  my  missus  home,"  said  Ramm,  with 
emphasis. 

"No,  you  wouldn't — not  if  you  were  Tregaskiss.  He 
aint  the  sort  to  do  lady's  man  to  his  missus — thinks  she 
can  look  after  herself.  And  so  she  can." 

"  And  so  she  can,"  assented  Ramm  slowly,  adding,  after 
a  pause,  "  and  after  other  people." 

"  Meaning  the  boss.  Well,  I  shouldn't  wonder  if  lie 
did  want  a  bit  of  playing  up  to  when  he  is  in  a  scot.  He 
has  got  a  temper,  has  Tregaskiss.  My  oath  !  I've  seen 
him  at  Wombo  kicking  up  the  devil  of  a  row  over  noth- 
ing at  all,  and  swearing  at  the  men  in  a  way  that  only  a 
blamed  fool  would  stand.  But  he  seems  fond  of  his 
missus,  and  he  is  not  such  a  bad  chap,  taking  him  all 
round.  What  "I  have  to  say  agin  Tregaskiss,"  continued 
Rodd,  putting  on  a  judicial  air,  "  is  that  it's  not  that  he 
likes  his  own  glass,  and  takes  it.  Lord,  I  don't  blame  him 
for  that  !  But,  hang  it  !  a  man  that's  free  with  the  grog  to 
himself  should  be  free  with  it,  in  a  general  sort  of  way,  to 
strangers.  And  there's  no  denying  that  Tregaskiss  is  a 

bit  of  a  screw — a  d d  sight  worse  screw  than  old 

Cyrus  Chance,  ./say,  though  I  know  that's  not  the  opinion 
among  sundowners  and  loafers." 

"  Well,  times  have  been  bad,"  replied  Ramm,  with 
soothing  impartiality,  "  and  carriage  is  a  consideration  on 
an  out-station  like  Wombo.  I've  sometimes  thought  it 
'ud  be  a  pretty  calculation  to  strike  a  grog  average  for  all 
hands,  according  to  the  rates  that  the  bosses  take  their 
nips,  and  see  how  many  bullock  drays  would  be  wanted  in 
the  year  to  fetch  the  liquor  up  from  here  to  the  Leura.  I 
likes  to  give  folks  their  due,  whether  it's  Cusack  or 
Tregaskiss." 

"That's  true,"  conceded  the  postman  reflectively,  as 
though  the  porterage  question  presented  a  new  view  of 
the  subject ;  "  and  if  this  drought  goes  on,  things  will  get 
dryer  still  every  day.  Bad  times  aint  so  much  'count  to  a 


10  MRS.   TREGASKISS. 

boss  manager  like  Cusack  of  Brinda. Plains,  who  shears  his 
thirty  thousand  sheep,  and  has  got  a  southern  company  at 
his  back.  But  there's  another  tune  to  sing  when  it's  the 
case  of  a  cattle  station,  with  a  debt  on  it  most-like,  and  the 
meat-preserving  places  shut  up,  and  no  market  for  fats." 

A  gentleman  in  shirt  sleeves  and  moleskins,  with  a  red 
silk  handkerchief  round  his  waist,  interrupted  the  discus- 
sion upon  Mr.  Tregaskiss'  character  and  conditions,  by 
shouting  from  the  veranda  of  one  of  the  minor  public 
houses  a  much  adjectived  adjuration  to  the  postman  to 
stir  the  chestnut's  stumps,  and  get  his  bags  delivered  and 
the  letters  sorted,  as  he — the  individual  in  question — had 
no  intention  of  wasting  any  more  of  his  blanked  time 
waiting  for  up-country  mails,  but  meant  to  clear  out  of 
this  brimstoned  place  as  speedily  as  circumstances  would 
permit.  Whereupon  Jemmy  roared  out  that  he  was  the 
servant  of  the  Leichardt's  Land  Government,  and  not  of 
any  darned  flash  stockman,  and  stated  explanatorily  for 
the  benefit  of  whom  it  might  concern  : 

"  I'm  a  bit  ahead  of  my  time  to-day.  The  Leura  Ter- 
ror"— flicking  the  chestnut — "started  bucking  with  me 
this  morning,  and  I  thought,  as  she  was  so  flash,  I'd  give 
her  a  sickener.  She's  pretty  well  knocked  out  now.  But, 
my  word,  she  did  perform  this  morning  !  I  borrowed  a 
pair  of  spurs  at  Flood's  Selection  and  took  it  out  of  her." 

"  Oh,  that  be  blowed  for  one  of  your  yarns,  Jemmy  ! " 
cried  a  second  coatless  gentleman  from  one  of  the  other 
verandas.  "  I've  seen  all  the  bucking  the  old  Terror  can 
do,  and  it's  pretty  harmless.  She  couldn't  kick  for  sour 
grapes.  Your  horses  all  buck  like  blazes — when  no  one  is 
looking." 

Again  he  received  the  impeachment  with  humility.  It 
was  not  his  habit  to  defend  his  own  statements.  He  stuck 
spurs  into  the  chestnut  and  made  for  the  post  oflBce,  where 
a  little  crowd  was  already  waiting  for  the  sorting  and 
delivery  of  the  mail  brought  by  the  incoming  train, 


CHAPTER   II 

DR.    GENESTE. 

MKS.  TREGASKISS,  with  her  children  and  the  half-caste, 
had  gone  over  to  the  hotel.  She  followed  the  porter  up  a 
pair  of  log  steps  to  that  part  of  the  veranda  called  by 
courtesy  the  private  entrance.  It  was,  however,  only  sep- 
arated by  a  wooden  railing  from  the  other  part,  outside 
the  public  parlour,  where  the  better  class  of  bushrnen 
smoked  and  drank  and  surveyed  the  life  of  the  township. 
Half  a  dozen  men  were  there  now,  lounging  on  squatter's 
chairs,  with  their  pipes  and  newspapers,  or  else  "yarning" 
together.  They  looked  up  and  inspected  Mrs.  Tregaskiss 
with  a  good  deal  of  interest,  as  she  paused  for  a  minute  on 
the  veranda  waiting  a  response  to  the  porter's  call  for  Mrs. 
Ruffey,  and  uncertain  as  to  which  of  the  French  windows 
she  should  enter  by. 

There  presently  appeared  the  landlady,  in  a  crumpled, 
rather  soiled  China  silk  dress,  wearing  many  rings,  ban- 
gles, and  other  miscellaneous  jewellery.  She  had  the  inde- 
finable stamp  of  the  diggings — the  free,  saucy,  yet  rough 
and  ready,  self-respecting  air  of  a  woman  accustomed  to 
dealing  over  a  bar  with  customers  who  occasionally  re- 
quired plain  speaking,  if  not  even  severer  correction.  A 
short  colloquy  took  place  on  the  veranda.  Mrs.  Ruffey 
cast  a  sympathetic  glance  at  the  baby,  and  a  long  look  of 
compassionate  curiosity  at  its  mother.  Ladies  of  the  type 
of  Mrs.  Tregaskiss  were  not  common  in  Mrs.  Ruffey's 
experience.  The  tall,  thin  figure,  dressed  in  cool,  quiet 
gray,  with  a  shady  hat  and  veil  tied  beneath  the  chin  ;  the 
smooth,  still,  olive  face  ;  the  large,  grave  brown  eyes  ; 
2  » 


12  MRS.    TREGASKISS. 

the  almost  painfully  sweet,  fixed  smile,  a  smile  so  faint 
as  to  convey  the  idea  of  a  studied  and  exquisite  self- 
repression  ;  the  extreme  quietude  of  the  gestures,  and  the 
musical  voice,  with  that  underlying  note  of  passion — all 
expressed  characteristics  which  seemed  to  separate  Mrs. 
Tregaskiss  absolutely  from  other  squatters'  wives  of  Mrs. 
Ruffey's  acquaintance.  The  landlady  dropped  something 
of  her  free  and  easy  air  as  she  led  them  upstairs  to  a  small 
sitting-room  and  rather  larger  bedchamber  opening  out  of 
it,  which,  she  said,  made  the  only  accommodation  that 
could  at  present  be  given  Mrs.  Tregaskiss. 

To   Clare,  in  her  weariness,  the  place  seemed  a  haven. 

"It  would  do  very  well,"  she  said, "  if  perhaps  a  bed 
could  be  found  elsewhere  for  the  half-caste,  Claribel." 

The  baby  was  crying  louder  now,  and  Mrs.  Tregaskiss 
took  it  from  the  nurse's  arms  and  hushed  it  against  her 
bosom.  "  Would  Mrs.  Ruffey  send  up  some  warm  water, 
some  tea,  a  glass  of  milk  for  the  little  girl  ;  and  would  she 
have  the  saddle  bags  brought  to  them,  and  inform  Mr. 
Tregaskiss  on  his  arrival  where  to  find  her?" 

Mrs.  Ruffey  departed,  followed  by  the  half-caste.  The 
mother  unfastened  her  dress  and  suckled  the  infant. 
Presently  its  wail  ceased,  but  the  sustenance  did  not  seem 
entirely  satisfying,  for  it  twisted  about  its  tiny  head,  and 
murmured  discontentedly.  Mrs.  Tregaskiss'  form  was 
girlish  in  its  contours.  She  was  not  of  the  type  which 
bounteously  nourishes  its  young. 

The  baby  fell  asleep,  and  she  sat  on  in  the  uncomfort- 
able armchair,  holding  it  more  loosely,  and  not  looking  at 
it.  Her  thoughts  had  evidently  wandered  from  the  duties 
of  maternity.  Her  limbs  and  features  relaxed,  and  the 
brown  eyes  stared  absently,  while  the  strained  smile  dropped 
away,  as  it  were,  from  her  lips,  which  tightened  in  an  ex- 
pression that  was  tragic  in  its  desolation  and  weariness — 
weariness  not  only  of  the  body,  but  of  soul  and  spirit  as  well. 

Ning  stood  at  the  window  watching  the  unloading  of  the 


DR.   GEKESTE.  13 

bnllock  drays,  and  making  comments  to  her  doll  upon 
what  was  going  on,  in  her  shrill  voice  and  odd  half  native 
vernacular.  She  turned  to  her  mother  : 

"  Oh,  mummy,  look  out !  Ning  see  another  little  girl, 
plenty  high  up  on  the  dray.  She's  coming  down  by  a 
ladder.  And  there's  her  mummy,  and — oh,  there's  a  baby, 
too  !  They  been  sit  down  on  top  of  the  wool  bales  close  up 
under  the  tarpaulin.  Mummy,  what  for  you  not  let  Jo 
Ramra  drive  us  up  to  Wornbo  in  his  bullock  dray.  I  foe 
very  good.  I  be  budgery  altogether." 

Then  finding  that  Mrs.  Tregaskiss  took  no  notice  of  her 
remarks,  the  child  came  and  stood  silently  by  the  arm- 
chair, for  several  moments  attentively  regarding  her 
mother's  neck,  left  bare  by  the  turned  back  bodice.  She 
appeared  to  be  struck  by  its  extreme  thinness,  and  stealvng 
closer,  passed  her  little  fingers  sympathetically  over  the 
prominent  collar-bones  and  the  transparent  blue- veined  flesh. 
She  heaved  a  throaty  sigh  and  made  the  sort  of  guttural 
"  Yuck  ! "  which  the  black  gin  gives  when  troubled  or 
astonished. 

"  My  word  !  "  exclaimed  Ning,  with  deep  commiseration. 
"  Plenty  bone  sit  down  there.  Altogether  meat  run  away." 

Mrs.  Tregaskiss  burst  into  a  laugh  that  was  almost  hys- 

O  O  •/ 

terical.  The  words,  and  the  accent  with  which  they  were 
uttered,  jarred  upon  her  wandering  thoughts,  which,  by 
some  irrelevant  association  of  ideas,  had  travelled  to  a 
modern  "  high  art "  South  Kensington  studio.  She  was 
picturing  her  friend  Gladys  Wai-raker,  now  Hilditch,  mak- 
ing tea  among  the  palms,  bulrushes,  dilapidated  properties, 
and  dingy  draperies,  which  she,  Clai'e,  had  once  revolted 
from  as  "  stuffy,"  affected,  and  sham-aBSthetic,  but  which  she 
now  recalled  with  a  faint  envy  as  contrasting  pleasantly 
with  the  glare  and  bareness  and  rough  angles  of  this  thirsty, 
uncivilised  land.  Ning's  speech  accentuated  crude  realities. 
She  checked  her  laugh  as  the  babe  stirred  uneasily  upon 
her  lap. 


14  MRS.   TREGASKISS. 

"  Oil,  Ning  !  take  care  not  to  wake  little  sister.  Ningie 
has  forgotten  all  mummy  told  her,"  she  went  on,  in  a  low 
voice.  "  You  know  mummy  said  that  you  weren't  to  talk 
blacks'  language.  You  are  a  little  white  girl,  not  a  picka- 
ninny from  the  camp." 

"  C'aribel  'minds  Ning  of  blacks'  language,"  exclaimed 
the  child.  "  C'aribel  says  '  budgery '  and  '  plenty  sit 
down.'  She  no  good  white  woman  ;  she  altogether  like  it 
black  fellow." 

"  Not  altogether  like  it  black  fellow,"  corrected  Mrs. 
Tregaskiss.  "  Claribel  talks  too  much  like  the  blacks. 
That  is  what  Ning  means.  But  Claribel  is  half  white,  and 
will  soon  learn  better.  We  are  going  to  teach  her  to  live 
in  a  house  and  to  talk  and  do  things  like  white  people." 

Ning  shook  her  head  doubtfully.  She  had  no  faith  in 
Claribel's  regeneration. 

"  What  for  daddy  not  have  white  servants  like  Mr. 
Cusack?"  she  asked.  "White  servants  are  much  better. 
Mrs.  Cusack  has  three  white  women  servants  at  Brinda 
Plains,  and  there  is  a  Chinaman  for  a  cook  besides.  What 
for,  mummy,  we  no  have  white  women  at  Wombo,  only  a 
Chinaman  ?  " 

What  for  !  The  contrast  between  the  domestic  arrange- 
ments of  Mount  Wombo,  her  own  home,  and  Brinda  Plains 
had  often  forced  itself  upon  Mrs.  Tregaskiss,  as  it  had  done 
upon  Ning,  though  she  was  not  given  to  petty  jealousy. 
After  all,  the  question  was  easily  answered. 

"  Because  daddy  has  lost  a  great  deal  of  money,  Ningie, 
my  dear,  and  because  the  bank  would  turn  ns  out  of  Mount 
Wombo,  and  we  should  be  like  the  blacks,  and  have  no 
house  to  live  in,  if  we  spent  too  much  money  in  pa3Ting 
servants'  wages.  Now  go  again  to  the  window  and  watch 
Ramm  and  the  bullock  drays  until  Claribel  comes  back." 

Mrs.  Tregaskiss  got  up,  careful  not  to  disturb  the  sleep- 
ing child,  whom  she  carried  into  the  next  room.  She 
placed  it  on  the  bed  and  laid  herself  down  beside  it  for  a 


DR.   QENESTE.  15 

few  minutes,  hushing  it  off  into  sound  asleep  before  she 
dared  to  remove  her  arm.  The  little  chamber  with  its  zinc 
roof  and  uncurtained  windows,  through  which  the  sun 
streamed  and  the  noise  from  the  township  entered  un- 
mufiled,  was  horribly  glaring  and  oppressive  in  the  coarse 
whiteness  of  mosquito  curtains  and  cheap  light  wall  paper. 
The  canvas  ceiling,  up  to  which  she  vacantly  stared,  was 
speckled  with  flies,  winged  ants,  and  long-legged  curious 
insects.  A  spider,  as  fat  and  bloated  as  a  tarantula,  had 
drawn  its  web  across  one  of  the  corners,  and  flies  buzzed 
down,  making  their  sickening  noise  round  the  sleeping 
child's  face  ;  they  were  getting  dull  and  heavy,  as  flies  do 
in  the  heavy  summer  days,  and  one  settled  at  the  corner  of 
the  infant's  mouth,  wet  still  with  its  mother's  milk.  Clare 
rose  and  drew  down  the  white  blind  in  an  ineffectual 
attempt  to  darken  the  room.  The  sun,  which  was  setting 
toward  the  horizon,  threw  off  reddish  gleams  from  the 
ii-on  roofs  of  the  houses  opposite.  She  looked  up  the 
whitey-brown  road  to  see  if  there  was  any  sign  of  her 
husband's  buggy,  but  she  saw  only  another  incoming  dray, 
and  a  rider  with  a  pack-horse  moving  outward.  The  great 
brown  plain,  with  dull  patches  of  lignum  vita3,  and  salt 
bush,  brown  too,  and  looking  like  heaps  of  earth  or  stones, 
made  her  think  of  the  desert  as  she  had  seen  it  once  from 
Biskrah  in  Algiers,  only  that  there  were  no  palms  in  the  fore- 
ground. She  felt  a  little  faint  and  dizzy.  The  heat  was 
like  a  tangible  weight  upon  her  head,  and  she  remembered 
that  she  had  not  eaten  much  during  the  journey,  and 
thought  that  she  would  go  into  the  sitting-room  and  see 
if  there  were  a  bell  by  means  of  which  she  could  hurry 
Mrs.  Ruffey  with  the  tea.  Then  she  almost  laughed  at 
herself  for  imagining  that  there  could  be  a  bell-pull  in  a 
zinc  bush  inn.  If  there  had  been  one,  it  would  not  have 
made  much  difference,  for  she  had  hardly  crossed  the 
threshold  of  the  inner  room  when  a  giddiness  overpowered 
her.  For  an  instant,  walls  and  floor  swayed,  and  then 


16  MRS.   TREGASKISS. 

they  settled  into  blackness,  and  before  she  could  snatch  at 
anything  for  support,  she  had  fallen  down  in  a  dead  swoon. 

Ning  uttered  an  astonished  shriek  as,  at  the  sound  of  her 
mother's  fall,  she  turned  from  the  contemplation  of  the 
drays  and  saw  the  prostrate  form.  There  had  not  hap- 
pened, in  the  child's  experience,  such  a  thing  as  that  a 
grown-up  person  should  incontinently  tumble  flat  after 
that  fashion.  When  Mrs.  Tregaskiss  made  no  sign  nor 
movement  in  answer  to  the  child's  calls,  "  Mummy,  get  up  ! 
— mummy,  what  for  you  tumble  down  ? — mummy,  is  'oo 
dead?"  and  when  the  inert  hand  which  she  lifted  fell 
back  with  a  thud  on  the  floor,  Ning  was  frightened.  She 
rushed  out,  down  the  narrow  stairs  and  into  the  lower 
parlour,  where  the  landlady  was  talking  to  a  tall  gentleman 
who  appeared  to  be  paying  his  bill. 

"  Oh,  please  come  up  and  look  at  mummy  ! "  she  screamed. 
"Mummy  has  tumbled  down  and  won't  get  up.  I  want  to 
know  if  mummy  is  dead." 

"  My  goodness  ! "  cried  the  landlady.  "  Perhaps  she 
has  fainted  ;  and  I  don't  wonder.  It's  Mrs.  Tregaskiss," 
she  explained  rapidly  to  the  gentleman;  "just  come  up 
from  Port  Victoria.  She  looked  regular  done  up  with  the 
train  journey.  Baby  not  much  more  than  a  month  old. 
Will  you  help  me  to  see  to  her,  Dr.  Geneste?" 

Mrs.  Ruffey  led  the  way,  the  gentleman  following  with- 
out question.  He  stopped  at  the  foot  of  the  stairs,  and 
took  Ning's  hand.  The  child  was  whimpering,  "I  want 
to  know  if  mummy  is  dead." 

"  No,  no !  don't  be  frightened,  little  woman.  Your 
mother  is  only  tired.  I  expect  she  will  be  all  right 
presently." 

The  half-caste,  who  at  the  child's  call  had  come  in  from 
some  back  region,  caught  Ning  up  in  her  sturdy  arms,  say- 
ing :  "  Ba'al  you  cry,  pickaninny.  That  no  good,"  and 
echoed  the  doctor's  assurance  :  "  Plenty  soon  missus  all 
right." 


DR.   GENESTE.  17 

Mrs.  Tregaskiss  revived  quickly  under  the  ministrations 
of  Mrs.  Ruffey  and  Dr.  Geneste.  The  man  was  a  stranger 
to  her, — he  was,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  the  new  "boss"  at 
Darra-Darra  of  whom  the  postman  had  spoken, — and  she 
stared  in  bewilderment  as  she  opened  her  eyes  and  saw, 
bending  over  her,  a  large  spare  form,  and  a  face  totally 
unfamiliar — keen,  kindly,  lined,  and  of  the  falcon  type. 
Then  she  became  aware  of  the  touch  of  hands,  gentle, 
steady,  and  curiously  competent,  and  closed  her  eyes  again 
with  a  sense  of  relief.  She  seemed  to  know  intuitively 
that  he  was  a  doctor,  and  yielded  herself  without  question 
to  his  treatment. 

He  gave  her  some  brandy  and  water,  which  Mrs.  Ruffey 
brought  from  below.  They  had  lifted  her  on  to  the  rough 
sofa,  and  he  raised  her  head  on  his  arm  while  she  drank. 
His  voice  appealed  to  her  pleasantly. 

"  I'm  afraid  it  isn't  very  comfortable  ;  we'll  have  some 
pillows." 

Mrs.  Ruffey  brought  two  from  the  adjoining  room.  The 
doctor  felt  Mrs.  Tregaskiss'  pulse. 

"  That's  better." 

She  opened  her  eyes  again. 

"  I  fainted,  I  suppose.  But  I'm  all  right  now.  I  have 
had  one  or  two  of  these  giddy  fits  lately." 

"  Have  you  ?"  He  looked  at  her  gravely.  "You  must 
have  come  down  pretty  suddenly,"  he  said.  "  Your  fall 
shook  the  building.  I  hope  you  didn't  hurt  yourself  ?" 

She  sat  up,  and  put  her  hand  first  to  her  forehead  and 
then  to  the  back  of  her  head.  "I  think  I  have  given  my- 
self a  bump  ;  but  it's  nothing  of  any  consequence." 

At  that  moment  the  baby  in  the  next  room  woke  and 
cried.  Mrs.  Tregaskiss  moved  quickly,  and  would  have 
got  up  from  the  sofa,  but  the  doctor  motioned  her  back. 

"  No,  no,  please  ;  you'll  be  fainting  again.  Isn't  there 
someone  else  who  can  look  after  the  baby  ?  " 

"  Claribel  ! "  called    Mrs.   Tregaskiss,  with   an  effort ; 


18  MRS.   TREGASKISS. 

and  when  the  half-caste  appeared,  bade  her  bring  in  the 
child. 

Dr.  Geneste  smiled. 

"  It's  not  an  appropriate  name,  exactly,"  she  said,  with  a 
wan  shadow  of  his  smile,  "but  Claribel  holds  to  it,  and 
objects  to  '  Bel.' " 

"They  don't  make  bad  nurses,"  said  Dr.  Geneste,  "if 
the  old  Adam  doesn't  crop  up,  as  in  my  experience  it  gener- 
ally does.  Most  civilised  half-castes  I  have  known  took 
to  the  bush  in  the  long  run." 

"  Oh,  I  hope  not!  I  am  teaching  Claribel.  I  always 
had  an  idea  that  I  should  like  to  tame  a  half-caste.  Yes, 
give  baby  to  me." 

She  held  out  her  arms  for  the  infant,  which  was  crying 
in  feeble  fretf ulness.  It  had  been  awakened  by  a  mosquito 
that  had  crept  in  under  the  netting.  The  poor  little  thing 
was  hot,  and  wet  with  perspiration.  Mrs.  Tregaskiss 
wiped  its  head  and  forehead  witli  her  pocket  handkerchief, 
loosened  its  neck  covering,  and  hushed  it  against  her 
bosom,  with  the  patient  attention  she  had  shown  in  put- 
ting it  asleep.  But  the  baby  cried  more  loudly,  taking  no 
comfort  from  her  ministrations.  Mrs.  Tregaskiss  swayed 
herself  to  and  fro,  in  a  vain  attempt  to  still  its  wailing,  and 
then  with  a  despairing  gesture  handed  it  to  Claribel. 

"  I  think  that  perhaps  she  wants  to  be  walked  about. 
Take  her  into  the  next  room,  and  try  and  make  her  go 
bye-bye  again." 

Claribel  rocked  the  child  in  her  strong  arms,  crooned 
to  it  a  monotonous  Corobboree  tune,  and  before  many 
minutes  had  it  sound  asleep  once  more.  Dr.  Geneste  had 
been  silently  watching  the  scene.  He  noticed  the  hysteri- 
cal quiver  in  Mrs.  Tregaskiss'  throat,  and  saw  that  her 
nerves  were  tortured  by  the  heat,  glare,  noise,  and  irritat- 
ing presence  of  the  fretful  baby,  almost  beyond  her  power 
of  control. 

"I   wish  that   you   would  let  me   go   and  find   you  a 


DR.   GENESTE.  19 

quiet  room  to  rest  in,"  he  said  ;  "  or  else  send  the  children 
away." 

"  Oh,  I  can't !  and  it  doesn't  matter.  King,  child,  don't 
you  cry  too.  Mummy  is  quite  well  now.  Ning  is  tired 
and  hungry.  I  am  afraid  that  my  fainting  fit  has  made 
them  forget  the  tea." 

She  turned  courteously  to  Mrs.  Ruffey,  who  ran  out  with 
an  exclamation  of  dismay. 

"  I  should  advise  something  more  sustaining  than  tea 
for  you,"  said  Dr.  Geneste.  "  I'll  go  and  forage,  if  you 
don't  mind,  presently.  I  dare  say  there's  some  soup  to  be 
had,  or  one  might  beat  up  an  egg  with  brandy.  You  are 
exhausted  ;  your  pulse  is  dreadfully  low.  May  I  dose 
you  ?  "  She  looked  at  him,  he  fancied,  a  little  doubtf ully, 
and  he  hastened  to  add  :  "  Perhaps  I  ought  to  apologise  for 
being  here.  Mrs.  Ruffey  brought  me  up  when  the  child 
ran  down  and  said  you  had  fallen.  I  really  am  a  doctor, 
though  I  have  turned  squatter  these  days,  and  only  physic 
people  who  can't  get  anyone  else  to  do  it.  There  is  no 
one  else,  I  believe,  here  or  on  the  Leura.  I  assure  you 
that,  one  way  and  another,  I  have  a  good  many  patients  in 
my  consulting  room  at  the  Humpey  on  Darra-Darra." 

"  Darra-Darra  !  " 

"  We  are  neighbours,  I  think.  I  must  have  taken  pos- 
session while  you  have  been  away  at  Port  Victoria." 

"  Oh,  yes  !  1  had  not  heard." 

"  My  name  is  Geneste." 

"  Geneste  !     Oh,  yes  ! — and  you  are  the  explorer?" 

"  I  did  that  trip  Gulfwards,  if  that  is  what  you  mean, 
and  opened  up  a  bit  of  Northern  country.  It's  not  a  tre- 
mendous achievement." 

"  Oh,  I  don't  know "  She  seemed  able  only  to  speak 

vaguely.  "  There  was  a  great  deal  about  it,  wasn't  there, 
in  the  papers?  And  then  the  Government — I  remember 
hearing  it  said  that  the  Ministry  ought  to  have  made  some 
recognition " 


20  MRS.   TREGASKISS. 

"  Governments  aren't  quick  at  recognition,  in  that  sense. 
Not  that  it  matters,  or  that  I  wanted  it.  I'm  glad  to  have 
pioneered  for  the  telegraph  line,  at  any  rate.  That's 
something  for  the  country.  Now  I'm  a  bit  crippled,  and 
am  going  to  see  what  I  can  get  out  of  Darra-Darra. 
These  long  droughts  are  ruination.  I  hear  your  husband 
is  doing  a  good  deal  in  the  way  of  boring.  I  should  like 
to  talk  to  him  about  his  artesian  wells  some  time." 

"  I  hope  you  will  come  over  and  see  us  at  Mount 
Wombo,"  she  said  faintly. 

He  saw  that  she  was  getting  white,  and  felt  the  pulse 
flutter.  In  a  moment  he  was  the  doctor  again. 

"  Do  you  mind  my  seeing  if  I  can't  help  you  a  little  ? 
though,  no  doubt,  your  doctor  at  Port  Victoria  gave  you 
something  for  this  sort  of  heart  weakness." 

"  He  did  not  say  that  there  was  anything  wrong  with 
my  heart." 

"  It's  weak,  that  is  all.  You  are  anaemic,  and  I  expect 
the  baby  is  a  little  too  much  for  you.  How  old  is  it  ?  " 

"  Six  weeks.  I  have  not  seen  Dr.  Finley  of  Port  Vic- 
toria quite  lately.  He  never  examined  my  heart." 

Dr.  Geneste  asked  several  questions,  and  listened  for  a 
minute  or  two  with  his  ear  against  her  chest  and  side. 
Presently  she  explained  that  she  was  on  her  way  home, 
and  was  expecting  Mr.  Tregaskiss  to  meet  her  that  evening. 
They  were  to  start,  she  said,  for  Mount  Wombo  the  next 
day. 

"  You'll  rest  a  da}r  or  two  at  Brinda  Plains,  won't  you  ?" 

"  I  don't  know  whether  we  shall  go  that  way.  There 
are  two  roads,  you  know,  almost  at  right  angles  with  this 
place,  and  one  as  short  as  the  other." 

"  Yes,  I  know.  I  have  ridden  up  that  way.  Brinda 
Plains  is  a  comfortable  station,  and  Mrs.  Cusack  and  her 
daughter  are  so  kind.  I  thought  you  would  find  it  a 
pleasant  break  in  your  journey." 

"  Yes,  it  would  be  a  nice  break.     We  don't  very  often 


DR.    GENESTE.  21 

go  to  Brinda  Plains  ;  though  Mrs.  Cusack,  as  you  say,  is 
so  kind,  and  I  haven't  seen  Helen  Cusack  for  ages — not 
since  she  came  back  from  Melbourne.  My  husband  and 
Mr.  Cusack  don't  always  get  on  very  well,  and  I  can't  tell 
exactly  why.  Mr.  Cusack  is  rather  tiresome  in  some  ways; 
and  then,  when  stations  adjoin,  it  is  so  easy  to  quarrel 
about  unbranded  calves." 

She  gave  an  uncertain  little  laugh,  and  he  did  not  pur- 
sue the  subject.  The  medical  conversation  was  resumed 
for  a  few  moments,  and  Dr.  Geneste  asked  permission  to 
send  up  a  reviving  mixture — some  drops  which  he  said  she 
would  find  useful  in  preventing  the  attacks  of  faintness, 
and  which  he  hoped  to  procure  at  the  store  in  the  town- 
ship. He  supposed  there  was  a  place  where  drugs  were  to 
be  obtained. 

"  I  have  a  regular  dispensary  at  Darra,"  he  said.  "  You 
must  remember  that  if  you  should  ever  be  in  need.  And 
it's  lucky  sometimes  for  the  out-station  people  that  I  am 
handy.  I  just  managed  to  save  the  stockman's  wife  at 
Kyabra  the  other  day.  She  had  given  herself  poison  by 
mistake,  instead  of  to  the  native  dogs." 

Tea  came  in.  It  was  not  an  unappetising  meal,  of  fresh 
scones  and  new-laid  eggs,  which  Mrs.  Tregaskiss  declared 
were  all  that  she  could  desire.  Dr.  Geneste  helped  Ning, 
and  waited  upon  his  patient,  whom  he  would  not  allow  to 
rise  from  her  sofa.  He  had  all  the  bushman's  ready-handed- 
ness,  and  there  was  just  sufficient  aloofness  in  his  frank 
cordiality  to  convey  a  suggestion  of  deference.  It  seemed 
to  Mrs.  Tregaskiss  that  his  manner  was,  in  some  ways, 
more  English  than  Australian,  and  she  wondered  how  long 
he  had  lived  in  the  wilds.  She  watched  him  as  he  poured 
out  Ning's  cup  of  milk  and  spread  her  scone  with  butter. 
His  appearance  attracted  her.  He  was  not  a  young  man  : 
she  guessed  him  to  be  about  forty.  He  looked  extremely 
tall — his  actual  height  was  six  feet  three  ;  but,  though  he 
had  a  well-knit  frame  and  broad,  muscular  shoulders,  his 


22  MRS.   TREGASKISS. 

leanness  made  him  seem  even  taller.  He  was  lame  in  one 
leg,  which  he  dragged  stiffly,  the  result  of  a  spear  wound, 
Mrs.  Tregaskiss  learned  later  ;  and  this  accident,  she  also 
learned,  had  been  the  cause  of  his  giving  up  the  more 
adventurous  career.  He  was  brown  and  weather-beaten, 
and  the  face  was  seamed  and  lined  in  a  manner  out  of 
proportion  with  his  years ;  but  it  was  an  impressive  face, 
full  of  determination  and  refinement,  and  decidedly  intel- 
lectual. The  eyes  were  gray,  keen,  and  rather  hard  in 
their  normal  expression  ;  but,  even  in  this  short  interview, 
Mrs.  Tregaskiss  discovered  that  they  had  a  way  of  dilat- 
ing and  softening  so  suddenly  and  completely  that,  for 
the  moment,  the  whole  character  of  the  countenance  was 
changed.  The  features  had,  too,  a  peculiarity,  not  at  first 
noticeable,  of  assuming  a  mask-like  immobility,  the  refuge 
possibly  of  a  nervous  temperament  afraid  of  self-betrayal. 
For  the  rest,  Dr.  Geneste's  face  was  more  interesting  than 
handsome  ;  in  complexion  it  was  sallow  beneath  the  sun- 
burn ;  the  hair  was  dark  brown,  and  the  beard  short,  silky, 
and  pointed,  of  a  lighter  hue. 

When  tea  was  over,  he  bade  Mrs.  Tregaskiss  good-bye, 
promising  to  send  her  the  medicine  he  had  recommended, 
and  regretting  that  he  should  not  see  her  again  for  the 
present,  as  he  was  leaving  that  night  on  his  way  back  to 
Darra-Darra. 

"Unfortunately  I  have  an  appointment  at  Flood's 
Selection  to-morrow  morning,"  he  said,  "  with  the  manager 
of  a  meat-preserving  establishment,  or  I  should  be  happy 
to  stay  till  your  husband's  arrival  on  the  chance  of  being 
useful.  But  you,  as  a  squatter's  wife,  Mrs.  Tregaskiss, 
no  doubt  know  that  butchers  and  cattle-buyers  are  just  the 
only  people  in  the  world  who  must  not  be  kept  waiting." 

Oh,  yes  !  Mrs.  Tregaskiss  had  learned  that  lesson  ;  and 
so  she  laughingly  assured  him.  Royalty  did  not  claim 
greater  consideration  in  England  than  the  Port  Victoria 
butcher  and  the  manager  of  the  meat-preserving  establish- 


DR.    GENESTE.  23 

ment  in  Australia.  To  her  personally,  it  was  a  matter  of 
the  deepest  importance  whether  or  not  these  personages 
found  her  to  their  liking  upon  their  business  visits  to  Mount 
Wombo.  She  often  wished  that  her  husband,  like  Mr. 
Cusack,  owned  sheep  principally,  instead  of  cattle,  since 
the  wool  market  was  independent  of  butchers. 

"  But  not  of  shearers,"  said  Dr.  Geneste.  "  I  hear  that 
Mr.  Cusack  anticipates  trouble  with  the  Unionists,  as  the 
strikers  call  themselves,  and  that  there  is  to  be  a  big  fight 
when  shearing  time  comes  on.  Well,  anyhow,  I  hope  you 
will  get  through  your  journey  all  right,  Mrs.  Tregaskiss, 
and  that  you  will  follow  my  advice  now  and  go  straight 
to  bed.  I  shall  take  an  early  opportunity  of  riding  over 
to  Mount  Wombo  to  find  out  how  you  are  and  to  make 
your  husband's  acquaintance." 

She  thanked  him.  "  You  have  been  very  kind  to  me," 
she  said. 

Something  in  the  tone  of  her  voice  affected  him. 
Although  she  had  only  spoken  on  commonplace  matters, 
and  had  said  little,  she  had  given  him  the  impression  of  a 
woman  of  more  than  average  intellect  and  of  keen  sensi- 
bility. She  seemed  to  him  utterly  unsuited  to  her  sur- 
roundings. And  yet  no  word  nor  look  of  hers  justified 
the  suspicion  that  she  was  discontented  with  her  lot.  It 
was  her  face  which  was  pathetic.  It  suggested  a  deep, 
underlying  regret.  A  vision  of  it  remained  with  him  con- 
tinuously for  some  hours.  As  he  rode  along  in  the  dusk 
toward  Flood's  Selection  he  was  haunted  by  the  delicate 
aquiline  features,  the  deep  brown  eyes,  and  the  patient 
smiling  mouth.  She  had  the  expi-ession  of  one  waiting 
for  the  answer  to  some  mysterious  problem  of  life,  to 
which  she  could  in  her  own  experience  find  no  clue. 

"That  is  it,"  he  murmured.  "It  is  the  Sphinx  look — 
which  has  always  had  the  most  extraordinary  fascination 
for  me."  He  recalled  in  imagination  the  black  heads  of 
the  exquisite  monsters,  and  of  the  earlier  Pharaohs  in  the 


24  MRS.   THEGASKISS. 

Egyptian  gallery  of  the  British  Museum,  where  in  his  stu- 
dent days  he  had  been  wont  to  while  away  many  an  hour. 

At  one  time,  during  a  certain  metaphysical  phase, 
through  which  imaginative  temperaments  of  a  particular 
caste  are  bound  to  pass,  he  had  explained  this  predilection 
by  the  theory  of  pre-existence.  But  such  speculations  are 
apt  to  crumble  to  nothingness  under  the  pressure  of  every- 
day facts  ;  and  of  late  years  mysticism  of  the  kind  had 
ceased  to  have  any  but  a  poetic  attraction  for  him.  The 
higher  type  of  man  is  always  more  or  less  dual,  and  in 
natures  like  that  of  Geneste,  the  dreamer  and  the  man  of 
action  have  alternate  periods  of  predominance. 

He  mused  as  he  rode  along  the  great  plain,  its  gaunt 
expanse  faintly  illuminated  by  a  moon  at  the  third  quarter. 
The  orb's  chastened  splendour  seemed  to  harmonise  curi- 
ously with  the  image  his  mind  retained  of  Mrs.  Tregaskiss. 
Geneste's  thoughts  were  sufficiently  defined  to  have  been 
uttered  aloud. 

"Yes,  it's  the  look  of  having  wandered  out  of  a  far 
past — a  look  of  expiation.  She  might  be  the  outcome  of 
an  age  which  has  produced  all  that  is  most  magnificent  and 
most  subtle  in  the  world's  history.  She  has  the  grand 
simplicity  of  an  absolute  superiority  ;  the  unconsciousness 
of  complete  dignity.  She  doesn't  know  herself  why  she 
is  an  anachronism  and  an  anomaly,  but  she  is  both,  and 
that's  the  pathos  of  her.  Of  course  she  suffers  from  the 
jar  between  her  own  nature  and  her  surroundings.  One 
realises  the  suffering  in  her  smile.  I  have  never  seen  a 
smile  like  hers  :  it  gives  one  the  notion  of  an  unspeakable 
far-awayness.  A  remoteness  even  from  the  natural 
maternal  interest.  I  could  make  that  out  from  the  way  in 
which  she  handled  the  baby.  But  how  painstakingly  she 
did  it !  Maternity  with  this  woman  is  a  duty,  not  a  pas- 
sion. But  that's  a  modern  characteristic.  There's  nothing 
of  the  human  mammal  about  the  complex  woman  of  to-day. 
She  has  refined  the  brute  maternal  instinct  into  an  intel- 


DR.   GENESTE.  25 

lectual  obligation — an  immense  social  responsibility."  Pie 
laughed  aloud.  "  Anyhow,  she  is  an  odd  study,  the  modern 
woman — a  queer  mixture  of  sensuousness  and  cold-blooded- 
ness ;  of  idealism  and  hard  and  fast  logic  ;  of  morbid 
nerve-tissue  and  ferocious  determination  not  to  knock 
under.  To  do  anything  big  in  diseases  of  the  nervous 
system,  the  physician  must  attack  woman  from  a  new 
starting  point.  I'm  glad  I  gave  up  the  business — or 
rather  that  the  business  gave  up  me.  Yet  it  was  intensely 
interesting.  Mrs.  Tregaskiss  is  the  type  of  woman  who, 
under  favouring  morbid  conditions,  might  develop  into 
one  of  the  revolting  tribe — the  sort  of  modern  instance  I 
might  have  expected  to  see  in  my  Harley  Street  consult- 
ing room,  seeking  ghostly  counsel  along  physiological 
tracks  from  the  physician-priest  of  the  nineteenth  century. 
She  would  have  been  quite  harmonious  with  the  European 
background.  But  here — set  in  this  primitive  barbarism, 
where  all  the  elemental  instincts  are  rampant,  what  in  the 
name  of  Heaven  is  she  going  to  make  of  herself  and  of  her 
life  ! " 

Then  his  thoughts  wandered  to  another  woman — one  of 
a  very  different  type.  A  young  girl  who  suggested  only 
what  was  limpid,  sweet,  pastoral,  and  altogether  feminine, 
with  clear  gray  eyes  that  had  no  hint  in  them  of  mysterious 
reincarnation  and  old-world  subtleties  :  the  sort  of  creature 
in  whom  wifehood  and  maternity  would  be  as  natural  and 
beautiful  as  the  opening  forth  of  bud  into  fragrant  blossom. 
He  thought  of  the  girl  with  a  half  impatient  regret. 

"  It  won't  do,"  he  said  to  himself.  "  It  would  be  just  as 
fatal  for  her  as  for  me.  That  kind  of  thing  in  a  woman 
never  appealed  to  me,  and  it's  too  late  to  try  it  now.  It 
wouldn't  be  fair  on  her  either.  I  wonder  if  she  thinks  any 
more  of  that  moment's  folly.  I  wonder  if  she  understood. 
At  any  rate  I'll  try  to  make  it  all  as  clear  to  her  as  I  can 
without  showing  myself  an  unutterable  cad.  I  never 
ou  wlit  to  have  done  it.  Poor  little  Helen  !  " 


CHAPTER  III. 

TJNMATED. 

WHILE  Dr.  Geneste  was  making  his  moonlight  journey, 
Clare  Tregaskiss  lay  within  the  mosquito  curtains  on 
one  of  the  two  beds  in  her  room,  her  baby  by  her  side. 
The  other  bed  was  still  vacant,  awaiting  her  husband. 
Ning  was  sleeping  on  the  sofa  in  the  sitting-room, 
an  improvised  mosquito  curtain  protecting  her  face  and 
chest  in,  it  seemed,  but  an  ineffectual  manner,  for  she 
stirred  and  muttered  and  flung  her  little  arms  out  from 
under  the  sheets  in  a  restless  slumber.  The  door  between 
the  two  rooms  stood  open,  and  the  lamp,  turned  down,  cast 
a  blui-red  glow  and  gave  out  a  disagreeable  smell  of  bad 
kerosene.  The  air  in  the  room  was  dry  and  scorching,  the 
zinc  roof  throwing  down  heat  as  though  it  had  been  the 
top  of  an  oven.  There  were  neither  shutters  nor  curtains 
to  the  window,  and  the  moon,  shining  through  the  thin 
white  calico  blind,  gave  the  effect  of  an  opaque  illuminated 
oblong.  Myriads  of  insects  were  astir, — mosquitoes,  cock- 
chafers, moths,  flying  ants,  and  beetles, — all  kinds  of 
winged,  uncanny  things,  circling  round  toward  the  lighted 
doorway,  and  tilling  the  place  with  a  low  roar,  which  was 
a  sort  of  accompaniment  to  the  noise  of  the  township,  the 
oaths  of  bullock-drivers  "  wetting  the  wool "  after  their 
unloadings,  the  click  of  billiard  balls,  the  loud  chaff  of 
bushmen  and  diggers  in  the  hotel  verandas,  and  the  sound 
of  the  bells  hung  round  the  necks  of  bullocks  and  horses 
that  were  going  out  to  grass. 

As  the  evening  wore  on,  and  the  men  took  in  more  and 

26 


UNMATED.  27 

move  liquor,  the  oaths  and  ribald  language,  distinctly  audi- 
ble through  the  zinc  partitions,  became  unpleasant  hearing 
for  the  ears  of  a  refined  woman.  Clare  had  tried  in  vain  to 
escape  from  the  brutal  sounds,  had  shut  the  window  to  find 
that  this  made  little  difference,  and  that  it  was  impossible 
to  endure  the  stifling  heat.  She  was  not  so  horrified  at  the 
bad  language  as  might  have  been  many  a  woman.  She 
accepted  it,  as  she  accepted  other  disagreeable  conditions 
of  her  life  and  surroundings,  with  a  certain  lofty  toler- 
ance, mingled  with  stoical  resignation.  She  took  refuge 
in  imagination,  after  a  fashion  of  her  own,  and  now 
deafened  herself  to  what  she  did  not  wish  to  hear  by  re- 
calling the  swing  and  beat  of  some  orchestral  measure,  or 
by  a  mental  phonographic  proces,  reconstructed  in  fancy 
the  swelling  rhythmic  measures  she  had  heard  at  a  Wagner 
recital.  She  was  not  musical  in  the  technical  sense.  She 
could  not  sing  a  note,  and  though  she  had  a  piano  at 
Mount  Wombo  she  never  had  time  to  practise,  and  her 
performance  was  poor.  But  she  had  an  almost  passionate 
love  for  deep-sounding  complex  harmonies.  Organ  vibra- 
tions stirred  her  nerves  as  did  nothing  else,  and  of  all  the 
pleasures  of  her  old  London  life,  music,  which  she  had  once 
thought  would  be  dispensed  with  most  easily,  was  that  for 
which  she  now  had  the  strongest  craving. 

But  the  effort  of  memory  grew  irksome  ;  the  unreal 
sounds  died  away,  and  her  mind  came  back  to  the  present. 
She  looked  down  upon  her  baby.  Poor  little  thing  !  She 
was  fond  of  it,  of  course  ;  but  why  was  she  not  as  fond  of 
it  as  some  mothers  were  of  their  offspring  ?  Why  did  it 
seem  to  her  only  a  cruelty  that  it  should  have  been  born 
into  a  crude,  harsh,  unsympathetic  world,  insufficiently 
equipped  for  the  moral  struggle  by  beneficent  hereditary 
influences  ?  Why  should  she,  who  felt  herself  unfitted  by 
temperament  for  the  burden  of  such  a  responsibility,  and 
who  had  a  weary  distaste  for  the  whole  business  of  multi- 
plying her  kind,  and  could  see  no  usefulness  in  it,  have 
3 


28  MRS.   TREGASKISS. 

been  chosen  as  the  producer  of  this  new  atom  to  swell  the 
generally  unsatisfactory  human  aggregate  ? 

The  two  papaw  apple  trees  growing  in  front  of  the 
hotel  imaged  on  the  blind  caught  her  eye.  They  had 
straight,  spear-like  stems  and  crowns  of  spiky  leaves,  which, 
as  a  faint  wind  stirred  them,  made  weird  shadows.  One 
was  a  male  plant,  the  other  a  female.  She  could  tell  this 
by  the  outlines  of  feathery  flowers  hanging  below  the 
leafy  plume  of  one,  and  the  grotesque  shapes  of  pendant 
pumpkin-like  fruit  on  the  other.  Was  there  no  escape 
even  in  vegetable  life  from  the  bewildering  sex  problem? 

She  was  thinking  these  thoughts  when  the  clatter  of 
buggy  wheels  and  dull  thud  of  the  unshod  hoofs  of  pack- 
horses  sounded  up  the  street,  and  then  stopped  in  front  of 
the  hotel.  Presently  she  heard  the  voice  of  her  children's 
father  in  answer  to  a  shout  from  one  of  the  bushmen  in 
the  inn  veranda. 

"  Hallo,  Tregaskiss  !  Those  horses  of  yours  look  pretty 
well  knocked  up  !  " 

"  Yes,  confound  them  !  " 

Tregaskiss  had  a  full,  rather  loud  voice,  with  the  rise 
and  fall  of  intonation  common  to  Australians,  and  an  im- 
perious ring  in  its  notes  which,  according  to  occasion, 
might  take  the  form  either  of  boisterous  cordiality  or  of 
ill-humor. 

"  Had  the  deuce  of  a  business,"  he  went  on.  "  The 
brutes  bolted  last  night  from  The  Grave — halfway  to 

Brinda  Plains.     It's  all  that  d d  Brinda  breed.     They 

have  a  trick  of  making  back.  But  these  are  slashing 
mares  all  the  same,  as  you  can  see  by  daylight.  I  wouldn't 
wish  for  better  goers.  They'd  pull  a  buggy  out  of 
anything." 

Clare  winced  at  the  expletives.  She  had  risen  when 
the  buggy  stopped,  and  now  sat,  a  ghostly  form  wrapped 
in  a  light  dressing  gown,  at  the  side  of  the  bed.  She  had 
not  minded  the  "  swear-words,"  as  Ning  called  them,  when 


UNMATED.  29 

the  bullock-drivers  had  used  them,  but  she   did   not  like 
them  in  her  husband's  mouth. 

Tregaskiss  exclaimed  in  the  tone  of  irate  superiority 
with  which  white  men  often  address  their  black  servitors  : 
"  Look  out  there,  Tommy  George,  you  infernal  idiot ! 
Haven't  you  learned  yet  how  to  unstrap  a  pack?  Oh! 
good-evening,  Mrs.  Ruffey  !  Send  someone  round,  will 
you,  if  they're  not  all  in  bed  or  drunk  ?  Has  Mrs.  Tregas- 
kiss come  ?  " 

"  She's  upstairs,"  announced  the  landlady.  "  As  for  my 
men  being  drunk,  Mr.  Tregaskiss,  they  keep  that  for  off 
Sundays.  You'll  spell  the  horse  a  day,  I  suppose  ?  " 

"  Not  I.  We  clear  out  to-morrow,  and  serve  the  mares 
right  for  sweating  themselves  on  the  bolt.  Let's  have  a 
light,  Mrs.  Ruffey,  and  show  me  the  way  up.  Oh,  look 
here  !  you  may  bring  me  a  nip  before  I  go  upstairs." 

After  a  few  minutes  his  heavy  step  shook  the  creaky 
Avooden  stair  and  zinc  walls.  Mrs.  Ruffey  had  not  thought 
it  necessary  to  ascend.  Tregaskiss  shouted  down  to  her  : 
"  That's  all  right  !  I  know  where  I  am.  The  black  boy 
can  bring  up  my  swag.  Let  me  have  something  to  eat,  will 
you  ?  And  you  may  as  well  send  me  a  bottle  of  whiskey  and 
some  cool  water,  if  you've  got  any." 

He  pushed  open  the  door  of  the  sitting-room  and  turned 
up  the  smoking  lamp.  "  Phew  !  By  Jove,  it's  hot  and 
beastly  smelling  !  "  He  flung  wide  the  ricketty  French 
windows  which  led  out  on  a  narrow  balcony.  "  Where  are 
you,  Clare  ?  Oh,  here's  the  Pickaninny  !  " 

Ning — whose  pet  name  for  Thyra  was  a  corruption, 
graduating  as  "  Ningie,"  of  her  father's  title  for  her,  "The 
Pickaninny" — had  been  roused  by  the  noise  and  the  flood  of 
light,  and  now  started  from  her  sofa-bed  veiled  in  mosquito 
netting,  which  she  tore  off  in  a  bewildered  haste — an  elfish 
creature,  with  tangled  hair  and  wide,  suddenly  awakened 
eyes. 
* " Daddy  !  " 


30  MRS.   TREGASKISS. 

"  Yes,  you  brat.  Give  us  a  hug,  Pickaninny.  Did  I 
scare  you  ?  Been  dreaming,  eh  ?  " 

"  Mine  been  dream  about  debil-debil,"  said  Ning 
solemnly,  relapsing  into  her  blacks'  vernacular.  "  Mine 
think  it  debil-debii  get  inside  me  and  take  me  over  the 
paddock  fence  into  his  big  fire.  But  the  fire  went  out, 
and  God  came  and  asked  me  if  I  was  a  good  girl,  and  then 
God  took  me  back  to  mummy." 

Tregaskiss  laughed  loudly.  "  That  was  a  good  job, 
wasn't  it  !  We  don't  all  get  out  of  debil-debil's  clutches 
so  easily.  But  then  we  aint  all  good  little  girls.  Oh, 
you're  a  Pickaninny  yet,  you  are  !  Daddy's  Pickaninny. 
Come.  There  now  !  a  right-down  good  old  hug." 

He  caught  the  child  in  his  arms,  mosquito  netting  and 
bed-clothes  trailing  behind  her,  and  smothered  her  with 
loud  sounding  kisses.  "  Where's  your  mummy  ?  " 

"  I'm  here,  Keith." 

Clare  stood  in  the  doorway.  He  took  up  the  lamp,  still 
holding  the  child  and  looked  at  his  wife. 

"  Good  Lord,  Clare  !  Poor  old  girl !  You  do  look  like  a 
ghost.  Knocked  out,  eh  ?" 

"  Yes,  rather  ;  we  started  at  four  o'clock  this  morning. 
It's  a  dreadfully  long,  slow  journey,  stopping  at  all  the  little 
roadside  stations.  I'm  really  glad  the  railway  doesn't  go 
any  further.  I'd  much  rather  travel  in  the  buggy  and 
camp  out." 

"Well,  you'll  have  two  nightsof  that,  and  I  was  thinking 
we  might  spell  a  day  at  Brinda  Plains.  The  Gripper  has 
been  behaving  a  little  more  decently  lately.  I  helped  him 
with  his  muster,  and  I  rather  want  to  talk  to  him  about 
wire-fencing  the  boundary." 

"  Oh  !  How  have  things  been  getting  on,  Keith,  on  the 
station  ?  " 

"  As  bad  as  can  be.  No  sign  of  the  drought  breaking 
up,  and  cattle  d}Mng  everywhere.  There  was  the  devil  of 
a  mess  driving  down  the  last  mob  of  fats,  and  a  bad  sale  at 


UNMA.TED.  31 

the  end.  Hardly  enough  to  cover  droving  expenses.  I 
was  a  fool  to  agree  to  Gryce's  terms.  I  told  you  so  at  the 
time,  yon  remember,  and  you  advised  me  to  accept.  One 
hundred  pounds  down  on  taking  delivery,  and  fifty  pounds 
a  month  for  droving.  It  was  exorbitant,  but  you  misled 
me  by  telling  me  that  was  what  old  Cyrus  Chance  paid.  I 
knew  what  a  nipper  he  is,  and  that  he'd  be  bound  to  give 
the  lowest  price.  It  was  all  an  infernal  concoction  of 
Cusack's  new  chums.  The  Gripper  put  them  up  to  getting 
a  I'ise  out  of  me." 

"  Oh,  I'm  sorry  !  But  it  wasn't  from  the  Cusacks  that  I 
heard.  Mr.  Chance's  storekeeper  told  me  those  were  the 
terms." 

"Well,  it  was  a  lie.  Cyrus  Chance  never  paid  anything 
like  that.  You  must  have  muddled  up  figures.  Women 
always  do.  I  mustn't  depend  on  yours  for  the  future. 
But  never  mind,  old  girl.  It's  a  good  thing  to  have  you 
home.  Are  you  glad  to  get  back  to  your  old  hubby." 

"  I'm — very  glad,  Keith.  Very  glad  of  course,  to  see  yon 
again." 

"  And  so  am  I  to  see  you,  old  dear  !  "  He  put  the  lamp 
on  the  table  and  still  holding  King,  whose  head  had  dropped 
sleepily  on  his  shoulder,  went  up  to  his  wife  and  affection- 
ately kissed  her.  "  And  the  Pickaninny  too  !  Good  little 
Kiddie.  I  declare  I  think  I've  missed  her  almost  as  much 
as  I've  missed  you.  By  Jove,  the  place  has  seemed  a  desert 
without  you  both  !  " 

"  There's  a  new  Pickaninny  now,  Keith." 

"By  Jove,  so  there  is  !  I  had  forgotten  the  little  shaver 
for  the  moment.  Let's  see  him,  Clare.  No,  it's  a  second 
she,  isn't  it  ?  I  rather  wish  it  had  been  a  boy,  now,  since 
the  two  other  poor  little  chaps  came  to  nothing." 

Clare  led  the  way  into  the  bedroom  where  the  babj^  lay, 
its  little  red  face  nestling  into  the  pillow.  Tregaskiss  con- 
templated the  creature  with  an  amused  interest,  much  as  he 
might  have  contemplated  a  new-born  puppy. 


32  MRS.   TREGASKISS. 

"Not  a  bad  little  cuss.  I  suppose  it  will  get  whiter  in 
time.  Looks  rather  like  a  blob  of  pink  putty.  King  was 
much  more  human  when  she  was  six  weeks  old." 

"  Dark  babies  always  are.  This  one  will  be  fair,  like 
you.  Ning  took  after  me." 

Tregaskiss  turned  his  eyes  upon  his  wife  with  a  freshly 
kindled  gleam  of  admiration.  "  So  much  the  better  for 
Ning,  as  she  is  a  woman.  Now,  if  this  brat  had  been  a  boy 
it  might  have  taken  after  me  and  been  a  fairly  decent  look- 
ing chap,  on  a  large  scale  into  the  bargain." 

lie  gave  the  little  fatuous  laugh  of  self-satisfaction 
which  was  a  trick  of  his,  and  which  always  jarred  upon 
Clare.  It  was  one  of  Tregaskiss'  weaknesses  to  be  somewhat 
vain  of  his  strength  and  robust  good  looks.  He  might  in 
truth  have  been  considered  a  handsome  man,  of  the  coarser 
mould.  Ten  years  ago,  before  his  features  had  thickened 
and  his  skin  had  become  red  and  rough -grained,  and  when 
he  had  been  less  inclined  to  stoutness,  there  could  have  been 
no  doubt  as  to  the  attractiveness  of  his  person.  One  might 
have  imagined  a  woman  very  much  in  love  with  him — but 
not  a  woman  quite  of  the  type  of  Mrs.  Tregaskiss.  Some 
little  frail  amiable  doll  perhaps,  without  much  intellect, 
and  the  kind  of  temperament  which  is  naturally  subservient 
to  brute  force.  Tregaskiss  was  fashioned  rather  upon  the 
Viking  model.  He  was  huge — as  tall  as  Dr.  Geneste,  and 
much  broader  and  thicker  of  girth.  In  spite  of  the  active 
life  he  led,  his  weight  could  not  have  been  less  than  four- 
teen or  fifteen  stone.  He  had  a  great  bull  neck,  and  a  large 
head,  with  close  cropped  yellow  hair,  which  fell  into  little 
rings  over  a  round  low  forehead.  The  eyes  were  bright 
blue,  slightly  bloodshot,  the  nose  well-shaped,  but  broad  at 
the  bridge,  and  with  two  small  furrows  on  each  side  mark- 
ing a  puffiness  between  the  eye-sockets  and  the  mouth, 
which  gave  an  appearance  of  coarseness.  He  had  even 
teeth,  discoloui'ed  by  smoking,  a  yellow  moustache  with 
long  points,  and  a  curly  fair  beard — the  kind  of  beard 


UNMATED.  33 

which  divides  in  the  middle  and  shows  the  cleft  of  chin. 
Although  he  was  proud  of  being  a  "fine  man,"  he  was 
careless  about  his  dress.  To-night  he  looked  disordered 
after  his  journey, — which  was  not  to  be  wondered  at, — hot, 
dusty,  and  redder  than  usual  ;  his  light  alpaca  coat  had 
stains  upon  it,  and  his  coloured  shirt  was  unbuttoned  at  the 
neck,  showing  the  inside  griminess  of  the  collar,  and  beads 
of  perspiration  stood  upon  his  forehead  and  his  great  red 
hands. 

Clare  stiffened  just  a  little  as  he  put  his  arm  round  her 
and  drew  her  closer  to  him,  in  their  joint  gaze  at  their 
child.  The  harsh,  virile  odour  which  came  from  him,  and 
seemed  to  tell  of  the  night's  camping  out  and  the  day's 
travel  in  close  proximity  with  hot  beasts,  mingled  with  an 
aroma  of  tobacco  and  of  the  whiskey  he  had  recently 
imbibed,  struck  unpleasantly  upon  her  nerves.  She  was  a 
woman  extremely  fastidious  in  such  trifles,  and  had  an 
almost  sensuous  delight  in  delicate  fresh  scents.  One  of 
the  things  which  went  far  toward  reconciling  her  to  life 
on  Mount  Wombo  was  the  perfume  of  the  sandal-wood 
logs,  which  she  kept  for  burning  in  the  sitting-room  in  the 
winter. 

But  something  of  the  same  conscientious  self-discipline 
which  marked  her  manner  to  her  children,  showed  itself 
in  her  bearing  to  her  husband.  She  seemed  to  become 
instantly  alive  to  the  impulse  of  repugnance  in  herself,  and 
atoned  for  it  by  laying  her  hand  caressingly  upon  his 
shoulder  ;  and  thus  together  they  contemplated  the  sleep- 
ing infant  for  a  moment  or  two  in  silence.  Then  she  with- 
drew her  hand  and  disengaged  herself  gently  from  his 
embrace. 

"Yes,  I  wish  too  that  she  had  been  a  boy.  Not  exactly 
for  your  reason,  though." 

"  For  what  reason,  then  ?  " 

"Oh,  because  I  think  women  have  the  worst  of  it  in  the 
world — at  any  rate  in  the  bush." 


34  MRS.   TREGASKISS. 

"  I  don't  see  that.  Things  are  always  made  as  easy  for 
you  as  they  can  be  up  here.  Of  course  the  life's  rough, 
but  if  it  is  so  for  women,  it's  rougher  still  for  men.  You 
can  keep  in  doors  if  you  choose.  But  how  would  you  like 
droving  cattle  across  country  with  rations  running  short, 
and  the  water-bags  getting  empty  ?  And  I  wonder  if  you'd 
enjoy  a  day  after  scrubbers  through  gidia  and  burrum 
bush,  or  else  drafting  off  a  camp  in  the  blazing  sun  and 
branding  till  sundown,  and  then  coming  home  dog-tired  to 
salt  junk  and  damper — and  all  the  worry  of  the  men,  and 
bad  sales,  and  drought,  and  a  big  debt,  with  the  chance  of 
the  bank  coming  down  on  you  into  the  bargain  ?  " 

"  It  seems  to  me  that  we  women  have  our  share  of  those 
worries  too,"  said  Clare.  "  As  for  the  station  work,  I  used 
rather  to  envy  j'ou  men  the  wild  free  rides  and  the  living 
with  nature  and  the  grandness  and  reality  of  it  all.  Do 
you  remember,  I  had  a  perfect  crave  for  out-of-door  life 
long  ago — after  the  hollowness  and  insincerity  and  stuffi- 
ness of  London.  I  used  to  fancy  then  that  it  must  make 
people  truer  and  better  and  purer.  You  know  I  loved  an 
easy  day  on  the  run,  before  the  babies  came,  and  when  I 
was  strong,  and  not  the  poor  creature  I  seem  to  have 
grown  into." 

"  An  easy  day  ! "  echoed  Tregaskiss.  "  A  kid-glove 
kind  of  mustering  in  cool  weather,  just  outside  the  paddock 
fences,  and  the  men  blessing  you  all  the  time  because  they 
daren't  let  out  an  oath.  I  think  you  found  it  a  bit  too 
real  sometimes,  Clare,  and  you  got  deuced  sulky  when  I 
swore  at  you  for  getting  in  the  way.  *You  expected  me  to 
keep  up  honeymoon  manners,  but  I've  broken  you  in, 
haven't  I,  and  we're  none  the  less  good  friends  for  it?" 

"  No,  none  the  less  good  friends,  Keith,"  she  repeated, 
with  that  curious  smile.  "  But  that  wasn't  what  I  meant 
when  I  wished  that  baby  had  been  a  boy." 

"  What  did  you  mean  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  Oh,  men  get  rid  of  their  illusions  quicker,"   she  an- 


UNMATED.  35 

swered.  "  Or  else  they  never  grow  them,  which  is  better 
still — at  least  I  suppose  it  is  better,  if  the  illusions  are 
bound  to  wither  before  the  morning  has  become  day. 
Women  are  so  helpless,"  she  went  on,  her  voice  taking  a 
deeper  inflexion,  "  so  blind,  so  ignorant,  so  hedged  in. 
They  can't  go  into  the  open  and  judge  of  things  as  men 
do.  They  can't  even  judge  of  themselves.  They  don't 
know  what  they  are  capable  of  or  deficient  in.  They  don't 
know  what  they  want." 

"Well,  most  of  them  seem  to  know  that  they  want  a 
husband,"  said  Tregaskiss  with  a  laugh.  "And  after  all, 
Clare,  a  woman  can't  do  much  better  than  that — if  she  gets 
a  good  one  ;  and  a  man  can't  be  better  off  than  with  a 
good  Avife." 

There  was  genuine  feeling  in  his  tone  ;  it  touched  Clare. 

"No,  Keith,  I  suppose  there  can't  be  anything  better  in 
the  world  than  a  happy  marriage.  But  people's  ideas  of 
happiness  and  of  love  are  different,  aren't  they  ?  and 
women  have  dreams  and  wayward  fancies.  In  the  end  we 
settle  down  to  doing  our  duty,  and  we  find  satisfaction  in 
it,  but  in  the  beginning,  when  we  are  young  and  romantic, 
and  long  for  drama  and  thrill  and  communion  of  mind  and 
the  poetry  of  love,  and  all  the  rest !  That's  how  it's  hard 
for  women — for  some  women.  They've  got  to  grind  down 
the  edge  of  their  imagination,  and  to  pull  their  ideals  to 
pieces,  and  to  scatter  in  fragments  all  their  fond  and  foolish 
beliefs,  and  it — it's  a  painful  process,  Keith,  and  I'd  rather 
not  have  to  watch  a  daughter  of  mine  going  through  it." 

Tregaskiss  looked  at  her,  at  once  annoyed,  uneasy,  and 
amused.  "  Oh,  confound  ideals  !  That  used  to  be  a  great 
word  of  yours,  Clare.  I  thought  I  had  laughed  you  out  of 
it,  though,  upon  my  soul,  I  never  did  quite  know  what  you 
meant  by  it !  I  hate  hearing  you  talk  like  that.  It  makes 
me  think  of  those  long-haired  South  Kensington  painters 
and  the  ladies  in  queer  dresses  with  notions,  that  you  used 
to  tell  me  you  were  so  sick  of.  Besides,  it  puts  it  into  my 


36  MRS.   TREGASKISS. 

head  that  you  aren't  happy,  and  that  isn't  true.  Anyhow, 
you  always  say  that  you  are  happy  enough." 

"  Oh,  yes,  Keith,  don't  mind  !  Of  course  I  am  happy 
enough." 

"Ideals!  "he  went  on  wrathfully;  "poetry,  sentiment, 
the  sort  of  stuff  you  read  in  novels.  Fine  words  and  in- 
fernal tommy-rot,  as  I  always  said  to  you,  dear.  They 
don't  breed  out  West." 

"  No,  you  laughed  me  out  of  my  fancy  that  ideals  might 
exist  in  the  bush.  That's  one  of  the  vanished  illusions. 
They  don't  seem  to  fraternise  with  sheep  and  cattle — in 
this  part  of  Leicliardt's  Land." 

"  Do  you  think  they  thrived  any  better  on  Ubi  Downs 
where  you  came  from  ?" 

"I  don't  know.  I  suppose  not.  I  was  only  ten  years 
old,  you  know,  when  I  left  it.  And  yet,"  she  went  on 
dreamily,  "  I  kept  a  vision  of  Ubi  Downs  all  those  years, 
as  of  a  sort  of  Promised  Land — the  mountains  and  the 
strange  sunsets  and  the  river  and  the  great  bunya  scrubs. 
The  Erl  King  and  Sintram  and  Undine  lived  in  that  bunya 
scrub  and  the  creek  that  came  down  from  the  gorge.  I 
can  remember  it  quite  well." 

"  And  you  married  me  because  you  thought  I  was 
going  to  bring  you  to  your  Promised  Land,  was 
that  it?" 

"  Perhaps  it  was — a  little,  Keith." 

"  Good  Lord,  Clare !  you  are  childish  with  your  Erl  King 
and  your  faiiy-tale  people.  I  suppose  they  are  in  a  fairy- 
tale. .1  never  heard  of  them  anywhere  else.  What  has 
come  over  you  to-night  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know,  Keith.  One  gets  thinking,  lying  awake 
in  the  moonlight." 

"  Thinking  !     What  about  ?  " 

"  Oh,  about  ideals,  and  drama,  and  thrill,  and  different 
kinds  of  love — everything  that  makes  the  poetiy  of  life. 
But  I  quite  agree  with  you  :  it's  stupid  to  talk  of  them, 


UNMATED.  37 

and  Gladys  Warraker  and  I  agreed  long  ago  not  to  expect 
them  in  the  ordinary  run  of  things." 

"  Well,  anyhow,  I  thought  you  had  dropped  all  such 
rubbish  since  you  came  here.  Ideals,  drama,  and  thrill, 
and  different  kinds  of  love  ! "  he  repeated,  with  bluff 
scorn.  "  By  Jove  !  do  you  remember  our  sitting  by  the 
waterhole  at  Wombo,  soon  after  we  came  up,  and  your 
reading  to  me  something  by  some  German  chap,  and  ask- 
ing me  if  that  was  how  I  loved  you,  and  your  disgust  when 
I  told  you  it  was  all  rot  ?  " 

Clare  gave  a  slight  shudder,  and  then  laughed,  an  odd, 
nervous  laugh.  "  Yes,  you  have  taught  me  that." 

"  I  have  made  you  practical,  my  dear.  Upon  my  soul  ! 
if  it  hadn't  been  for  having  married  me,  you'd  be  lost  in 
the  clouds  by  now.  I've  brought  you  down  to  earth — I 
and  the  children." 

"Yes,"  she  again  assented;  "you  and  the  children. 
One  can't  be  anything  but  practical  when  there  are  babies 
crying  around,  and  only  a  half-caste  or  a  black  gin  to  look 
after  them." 

"  Well,  that's  your  own  fault,  Clare.  I  said  you  could 
get  a  nurse  out  of  one  of  the  emigrant  ships  at  Port 
Victoria." 

"  Oh,  she  wouldn't  have  stayed  !  She  would  have  com- 
plained that  it  was  too  rough,  or  too  dull,  or  else  the 
mosquitoes  and  sandflies  would  have  eaten  her  up.  And 
I'm  so  anxious  to  get  that  wretched  debt  cleared  off.  I 
don't  want  to  add  to  expenses,  especially  as  I  brought  you 
nothing.  That's  being  practical,  isn't  it  ?  " 

"  You're  a  splendid  old  dear  !  I'm  bound  to  say  that 
there's  not  another  woman  I  know,  brought  up  like  you, 
that  would  work  in  the  same  way  to  keep  things  together. 
As  for  the  debt,  if  I  could  get  a  couple  of  good  seasons 
and  a  market  for  fat  cattle,  I'd  soon  clear  it  off,  and 
we'd  take  a  trip  home,  and  then  settle  down  on  your 
beloved  Ubi,  in  the  heart  of  civilisation.  Confound  that 


MRS.   TREGASKISS. 

woman  !  when  is  she  going  to  send  me  up  something 
to  eat?" 

He  went  noisily  to  the  staircase  and  called  down.  After 
a  few  minutes  a  young  woman,  who  had  been  serving  at 
the  bar,  brought  in  a  tray  with  cold  beef  and  bread  and  a 
bottle  of  whiskey.  Tregaskiss  threw  off  his  coat,  poured 
himself  out  some  whiskey  and  water,  and  called  to  his 
wife  to  come  in  and  "  yarn."  She  obeyed  the  peremptory 
call  without  a  murmur,  though  she  had  lain  down  again 
upon  the  bed  beside  the  baby,  and  was,  in  truth,  almost 
worn  out.  She  waited  upon  her  husband  while  he  made  a 
hearty  meal,  and  chatted  cheerfully  upon  Leura  concerns 
the  while,  having,  it  appeared,  quite  recovered  from  her 
sentimental  mood.  They  talked  about  the  delinquencies 
of  the  "  Gripper,"  otherwise  Mr.  Cusack  ;  the  new  boun- 
dary between  Wombo  and  Brinda  Plains  ;  the  surveyors 
to  be  employed ;  the  stockkeeping  capacity  of  a  "  new 
chum  "  lately  installed  at  Mount  Wombo  ;  the  number  of 
the  last  branding.  It  was  not  till  Tregaskiss  had  lighted  his 
pipe  and  tilted  back  his  chair  that  he  was  struck  for  the 
second  time  by  his  wife's  wan  looks,  and  again  declared 
that  she  looked  like  a  ghost.  He  insisted  upon  giving  her 
some  weak  whiskey  and  water,  and  expressed  compunction 
for  having  kept  her  up,  fussing  over  her  in  a  man -like, 
unhelpful  manner,  which  at  intervals  took  the  form  of 
scolding.  Why  didn't  she  look  after  herself  better  ? 
What  was  the  use  of  leaving  Port  Victoria  before  she  was 
quite  strong  ?  Why  would  she  nurse  the  baby  when  she 
knew  that  she  wasn't  fit  for  it?  On  the  last  point  he 
waxed  persistently  wrathful. 

"  I  wanted  to,"  pleaded  Clare.  "  I  think — I  have  read 
that  mothers  always  care  more  for  the  children  they  nurse 
themselves.  It's  an  outlet  for—  She  stopped. 

"An  outlet  for  what?" 

"  For  the  foolish  fancies,  perhaps,  that  you  have  been 
scolding  me  for." 


UNMATED.  39 

"  What  has  put  the  notion  into  your  head  ? "  asked 
Tregaskiss.  "  You  know  that  the  child  drags  you  to 
pieces." 

"  I  didn't  nurse  the  other  two,"  she  said,  in  a  low  voice, 
"  and  they  died  ;  and  I  don't  think  I  was  half  sorry 
enough — poor  little  things  !  " 

Tregaskiss  was  silent.  "  That's  nonsense  !  "  he  said 
presently.  "  They  wouldn't  have  lived,  anyhow,  and  this 
one  is  much  more  likely  to  thrive  on  good  cow's  milk.  I'll 
have  a  milker  kept  apart."  And  then  he  went  on  :  "  You 
talk  of  expenses,  and  you  know  it  means  gallons  of  bot- 
tled stout,  or  you  can't  get  on  at  all.  Not  that  I  grudge 
it,"  he  added  hastity,  smitten  by  an  expression  which 
crossed  Clare's  face,  "  but  goodness  knows  how  long  the 
drays  will  be  getting  it  up.  That's  what  I  meant." 

But  she  had  been  moved  many  times  to  a  half-amused 
scorn,  or  pitiful  tolerance,  by  the  exhibition  of  a  curious 
strain  of  meanness  in  Tregaskiss'  character.  This  was  all 
the  more  strange  because  it  was  allied  in  a  certain  sense  to 
boisterous  good-nature.  In  some  matters  Tregaskiss  was 
open-handed  and  even  extravagant  ;  it  was  quite  certain 
also  that  he  would  not  have  grudged  his  wife  anything 
that  he  seriousty  believed  would  contribute  to  her  health 
or  comfort,  and  yet  in  such  small,  odd  ways  he  was 
penurious. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

THE  STOEY  OF  CLARE  GARDYNE. 

CLARE  TREGASKISS  did  not  love  her  husband.  There 
are  millions  of  women  in  like  state  to  whom  such  a  condi- 
tion of  things  presents  no  insuperable  barrier  to  content, 
or  even  to  happiness.  But  Clare  was  not  one  of  these. 
She  had  not  the  disposition  to  be  satisfied  with  com- 
promises. 

To  her,  life  without  sympathy  seemed  poisoned  at  its 
source.  All  she  did,  thought,  and  said  was  robbed  of 
savour  and  spontaneity.  She  suffered  the  pain  of  a  keenly 
sensitive,  emotional,  and  intellectual  woman  imprisoned, 
as  within  brick  walls,  by  limitations  of  circumstance. 
Worst  of  all  she  suffered  from  a  dense  and  stifling  mate- 
rialism— the  temperament  with  which  she  was  mated. 

Existence  was  for  her  an  unfulfilled  yearning.  Beneath 
her  still,  chiselled  features,  her  faint  abstracted  smile,  her 
painstaking  interest  in  the  prosaic  details  of  a  squatter's 
vocation,  her  scrupulous  attention  to  the  duties  of  her 
position,  her  quiet  manner  and  feminine  submissiveness  to 
the  inevitable,  there  pulsed  a  hidden  current  of  passionate 
feeling  :  of  indignant  protest,  of  unexplainable  aversions, 
impulses,  desires,  which  at  times  frightened  her  by  their 
intensity.  She  did  her  very  best  to  quell  them  and  to 
compress  her  aspirations  within  the  scope  of  her  everyday 
life,  but  it  was  of  little  nse.  She  ached  with  an  immense 
craving — an  ache  insistent  and  unbearable  almost  as  that 
of  bodily  starvation.  And  in  truth,  on  the  psychological 
side  of  things,  there  is  a  hunger  of  mind,  of  heart,  and  of 

40 


THE   STORY  OF  CLARE  GARDYNE.  41 

spirit,  quite  as  wasting,  and  quite  as  imperious  in  its  de- 
mands, as  the  physical  need  of  meat  and  bread. 

Why  had  she  married  Mr.  Tregaskiss  ?  Oh,  fool,  fool, 
fool  !  This  she  said  to  herself  over  and  over  again  in  her 
fiercest  and  most  secret  moods  of  revolt.  But  the  rec- 
ognition of  her  folly  did  not  alter  the  irrevocable  and  dis- 
astrous fact  that  she  was  Keith  Tregaskiss'  wife  and  the 
mother  of  his  children.  How  she  had  brought  herself  to 
perpetrate  the  folly  was  as  great  a  mystery  to  herself  as 
it  became  a  little  while  later  to  Dr.  Geneste. 

In  the  chain  of  circumstances,  she  had  been  led  to  the 
marriage  by  perhaps  the  only  concatenation  of  influences 
of  which  it  could  rationally  have  been  the  outcome.  Clare 
Gardyne  was  the  only  child  of  a  man  who,  for  a  very 
short  time,  had  blazed  as  a  minor  comet  in  the  system  of 
Australian  finance.  He  had  been  in  the  first  instance  a 
sheep-owner  on  the  Ubi  Downs,  where  Clare  had  been  born 
and  where  her  mother  had  died.  The  child  had  been 
about  six  years  old  when  she  was  left  motherless,  and  at 
this  time  Mr.  Gardyne  sold  his  station,  realised  a  moderate 
fortune,  and  took  his  little  girl  to  England.  There  he 
made  arrangements  for  her  education.  He  spent  the 
twelve  years  which  this  occupied  mainly  in  Australia, 
where  he  entered  political  life,  started  a  great  meat  preserv- 
ing establishment,  and  made  for  himself  a  not  altogether  un- 
tarnished reputation  as  a  supposed  millionaire  and  juggler 
in  company  promoting,  and  in  the  transaction  of  an  im- 
portant loan  to  the  Leichardt's  Land  Government.  Finally 
ho  accepted  the  appointment  of  agent-general  for  the 
colony,  and  settled  in  London  in  a  big  house  in  Queen's 
Gate,  with  his  handsome  daughter  to  act  as  its  mistress,  and 
as  hostess  at  the  numerous  entertainments  by  means  of 
which  he  floated  himself  in  a  certain  sphere  of  society. 

Meanwhile  Clare  Gardyne  had  been  brought  up  perhaps 
not  altogether  in  the  most  judicious  manner  for  a  nature 
so  wilful,  impulsive,  reserved,  and  impatient  of  shams  and 


42  MRS.   TREGASKISS. 

of  control.  Her  only  relatives  in  England  were  a  sister 
and  brother-in-law  of  her  father's,  and  from  the  beginning 
Clare  had  entertained  for  her  uncle  and  aunt  the  strongest 
antipathy.  They  belonged  to  a  class  which  she  imagined 
beneath  her  own,  and  which  was,  at  any  rate,  utterly  op- 
posed to  all  the  traditions  of  her  early  Australian  associa- 
tions— for  which  she  had  retained  an  almost  passionate 
tenderness.  Mr.  Man-able  owned  a  shoe  factory  in  a  Mid- 
land town.  He  was  a  Dissenter,  and  Mrs.  Marrable  was 
not  visited  by  any  lady  of  higher  social  grade  than  the 
wife  of  the  lawyer,  the  doctor,  and  occasionally  the 
vicaress  of  the  parish.  Yet  she  had  kept  an  almost 
sycophantic  awe  of  the  great,  and  her  main  ambition  was 
to  be  genteel.  The  Marrables'  way  of  living  and  thinking 
were  of  the  narrowest,  dullest,  and  most  provincial.  They 
occupied  a  two-storied,  bow-windowed  house  of  the 
suburban  pattern,  in  the  new  road  where  the  principal 
townsfolk  and  better-class  tradesmen  had  detached  resi- 
dences. The  house  had  a  few  shrubs,  a  miniature  rockery, 
and  an  oval  flower  bed  in  front,  and  at  the  back  a  ten- 
nis ground  enclosed  by  a  brick  wall,  and  some  neatly 
trimmed  shrubs.  Clare  remembered  the  wild  beauty  and 
expanse  of  the  Ubi  Downs,  the  breezy  freedom,  the  absence 
of  social  barriers,  the  chivalrous  deference  of  the  station 
hands,  among  whom,  even  at  six  years  old,  she  had  been  a 
little  queen.  From  these  idealised  recollections  she  con- 
structed a  visionary  republic  of  light  and  sincere  living,  and 
rebelled  against  the  Marrable  restraints.  She  spent  three 
summer  holidays  with  her  relations,  then  wrote  to  her 
father  requesting  permission  to  remain  at  school  or  to  accept 
invitations  elsewhere — a  permission  he  readily  granted,  for 
he  had  ambitions  which  did  not  embrace  the  Marrable 
connections,  and,  in  truth,  cai'ed  veiy  little  what  his 
daughter  did  as  long  as  she  got  into  no  scrapes  and  was 
decently  educated.  He  therefore  never  opposed  any 
scheme  of  hers  which  did  not  appear  to  him  unreasonable. 


THE  STORY   OF  CLARE  GABDYNE.  43 

Besides,  he  had  his  own  affairs  to  think  about.  When 
Clare  was  sixteen  she  conceived  a  vague  enthusiasm  for 
the  artistic  life,  and  went  to  live  in  Kensington,  in  the  re- 
moter quarters,  where  she  boarded  with  the  family  of  one 
of  her  school-fellows.  The  father  of  her  school-fellow 
was  a  dramatic  critic  on  the  staff  of  one  or  two  small 
papers,  and  the  mother  called  herself  an  artist,  and  had  a 
class  of  yonng-lady  students  in  her  studio,  to  whom  she 
imparted  instruction  on  impressionist  methods.  The 
eldest  daughter  did  a  small  trade  in  casting  horoscopes 
and  delineating  chai'acter  from  handwriting;  and  of  the 
younger  daughters,  one  was  an  actress,  low  in  the  scale, 
one  studied  music,  and  one  was  beautiful,  ambitious,  origi- 
nal, and  vague  both  in  her  views  and  occupations. 

The  first  three  had  great  theories,  talked  much,  and 
were  generally  unkempt,  slip-slod,  enthusiastic,  and  inac- 
curate in  accounts.  Clare,  at  the  first  blush,  had  been  fasci- 
nated at  the  idea  of  women  breaking  loose  from  conven- 
tions, had  taken  in  greedily  all  the  fine  talk,  had  believed 
in  the  unappreciated  geniuses  and  the  jargon  of  idealism, 
had  considered  the  whole  thing  very  intellectual,  mystic, 
original,  and  elevating.  She  had  a  notion  that  she  was 
going  to  lead  the  higher  life,  and  for  a  time  muddled 
away  at  her  paints — she  had  a  failing  for  colour — with  the 
utmost  satisfaction.  She  would  not  allow  herself  to 
realise  that  she  had  no  talent,  not  even  the  most  rudi- 
mentary knowledge  of  anatomy  or  perspective,  and  was 
readily  persuaded  that  she  might  become  the  leader  of 
a  movement  and  the  pioneer  of  advanced  womanhood. 
She  had  always  maintained  that  women  were  down-trodden 
and  the  victims  of  an  hereditary  tendency  to  insincerity, 
for  the  reason  that  they  had  never  been  able  to  get  their 
own  way  except  by  wheedling  the  men.  At  this  period — 
she  was  going  on  for  eighteen — she  had  an  intense  scorn 
for  matrimony,  and  had  never  seen  the  man  who  could 
raise  her  opinion  of  the  sex.  This  was  to  the  credit  of  her 


44  MRS.   TREGASKISS. 

discrimation,  for  certainly  she  saw  but  poor  specimens  at 
the  Warrakers.  All  her  emotional  force  was  expended  on 
abstract  enthusiasms  and  upon  her  friendship  for  Gladys 
Warraker,  the  only  one  of  the  sisters  who  had  no  profes- 
sion, and  yet  who  managed  to  do  everything  better  than 
any  of  the  others.  Gladys,  though  she  was  intensely 
artistic  in  appearance  and  nature,  kept  an  attitude  of  cynical 
superiority  to  all  artistic  fads,  and  openly  scorned  the 
deceptions  which  the  others  glossed  over  by  tall  talk.  She 
also  frankly  declared  her  intention  of  making  a  worldly 
marriage,  if  the  sacramental  marriage  did  not  come  in  her 
way.  This  was  the  point  upon  which  Gladys  and  Clare 
were  totally  disagreed,  and  many  was  the  tussle  they  had 
on  the  subject.  On  one  point,  however,  they  were  in 
accord.  They  were  each  solemnly  convinced  that  the 
sacramental  marriage  did  exist,  only  Glad3rs  held  that  it 
was  irreconcilable  with  the  exigencies  of  the  modern 
social  system.  To  both  girls  love  was  a  mystery,  as  holy 
and  as  impossible  of  frivolous  discussion  as  the  mystery 
of  the  Eucharist.  Glad}7s  was  a  Catholic  ;  Clare,  having 
begun  doubt  with  "The  Old  Red  Sandstone,"  and  having 
wandered  on  by  way  of  Spencer,  Frederic  Harrison, 
Kenan's  "  Vie  de  Jesus,"  and  Matthew  Arnold's  " Literature 
and  Dogma,"  through  a  phase  of  tempered  agnosticism, 
was  also  a  somewhat  lukewarm  votary  of  the  older  faith. 
Gladys  accepted  the  sacramental  theory  in  hope,  but  was 
quite  ready  to  resign  it  as  a  practical  reality  at  the  age  of 
twenty-one,  and  to  do  her  duty  on  the  material  matri- 
monial plane  if  the  spiritual  joys  of  conjugal  life  were 
denied  her.  Gladys  had  plenty  of  common  sense  ;  in  this 
lay  her  influence  over  Clare,  who  was  the  oddest  mixture 
of  romance,  sentiment,  reserve,  as  regarded  her  inner  life, 
and  flinty  determination  to  look  facts  in  the  face  and  keep 
straight  at  all  hazards.  It  was  Gladys  who  kept  Clare  at 
the  Warrakers,  for  she  was  not  many  months  in  discover- 
ing that  the  shifty  standards  of  the  rest  of  the  family  did 


THE  STORY  OF  CLARE  GARDYNE.  45 

not  coincide  with  her  own  lofty  ideals.  She  was  too 
innately  truthful  not  to  see  for  herself  that  their  art  was 
only  a  flimsy  pretence,  and  their  impressionism  an  excuse 
for  slurring  honest  labour.  Had  she  possessed  any  real  gift 
she  would  have  gone  off  on  another  track,  but  she  was 
candid  enough,  after  a  time,  to  recognise  the  fact  that  she 
had  no  gift.  She  had  a  brief  re-action  in  the  shape  of 
slumming,  which,  however,  did  not  outlast  the  discovery 
of  an  obnoxious  insect  upon  her  clothing  after  an  after- 
noon among  the  bandbox  makers.  She  began  then  to 
long  for  some  solid  social  sphere  between  Bohemianism 
and  squalor  and  vice.  She  took  a  disgust  to  the  queer 
clairvoyants  and  mediums  and  professional  fortune-tellers 
whom  the  astrological  daughter  collected,  the  out-of- 
elbows  literary  persons  and  the  dreamy  artists,  given  to 
ideas  and  methods  that  never  came  to  anything,  who 
frequented  the  Wai-raker  studio.  She  absolutely  longed 
for  a  respectability  which  might  be  of  any  type  provided 
it  was  not  that  of  the  Marrables',  whom  she  never  saw  nowa- 
days. She  used  to  watch  the  carriages  in  the  Park,  when 
she  and  Gladys  made  excursions  into  that  fashionable 
region,  and  would  dream  of  a  sphere  in  which  influence, 
enthusiasm,  and  sincerity  might  be  combined  with  refine- 
ment and  the  possession  of  an  income.  She  then  began 
to  think  that  Gladys  might  have  reason  in  her  views, 
and  that  it  might  be  better  to  marry  some  well  inten- 
tioned  and  fairly  well-off  young  man  of  birth,  than  to 
wait  for  the  one  and  only  affinity  whom  a  perverse  fate 
might  have  located  at  the  other  end  of  the  globe.  Of 
course  she  and  Gladys  were  of  the  opinion  that  love  in  its 
strict  essence  was  only  possible  in  the  event  of  a  falling 
in  with  that  pre-ordained  mate,  and  the  malignant  con- 
trariety of  the  Higher  Powers,  in  so  invariably  separating 
the  twin  souls,  seemed  to  them  a  problem  of  the  universe 
on  a  par  with  that  of  the  existence  of  evil.  Gladys  had 
a  theory,  that  the  allegory  of  Eve  and  the  apple  was  a 


46  MRS.   TREGASKISS. 

veiled  version  of  the  original  mistake  in  this  matter  of 
pairing,  which  had  set  the  whole  machinery  out  of  gear. 

Clare  knew  very  little  about  her  father's  affairs,  and  as 
her  allowance  had  never  been  munificent,  and  as  in  his 
infrequent  letters  he  had  generally  spoken  of  being  har- 
assed over  money  matters,  she  had  come  to  the  conclusion 
that  he  was  comparatively  a  poor  man.  She  knew  that 
Australia  was  supposed  to  be  passing  through  a  cycle  of 
bad  years,  and  imagined  that  her  father  was  probably  suf- 
fering therefrom.  She  very  seldom  saw  him  ;  he  was 
little  more  than  a  name  to  her.  When,  during  his  short 
visits  to  England,  he  did  run  down  to  Brighton,  where  she 
had  been  at  school,  it  was  only  on  a  hurried  visit,  and  he 
had  always  seemed  oppressed  with  business,  and  but  per- 
functorily interested  in  her  welfare.  He  had  not  been  to 
Europe  since  her  installment  at  the  Warraker's,  till  upon 
his  appointment  as  agent-general  he  had  come  to  take  her 
"  home."  That  meant  to  the  house  in  Queen's  Gate,  which 
he  had  rented  furnished  from  a  stock-broker  under  a 
cloud,  and  who  was  forced  to  retire  for  a  time  to  the 
Continent,  and  of  which  he  informed  her  she  was  to  be 
the  nominal  mistress.  He  had  already  engaged  a  house- 
keeper companion,  inoffensive  and  without  pretension,  who 
•was  equally  ready  to  efface  herself  or  to  act  as  Clare's 
chaperon  in  the  absence  of  Mr.  Gardj'ne. 

Clare  was  bewildered.  The  Queen's  Gate  house  appeared 
to  her  a  palace.  The  servants  in  livery,  the  carriages,  the 
whole  style  of  living,  in  curious  contrast  with  that  of  the 
Warraker's  happy-go-lucky  establishment,  gave  her  a  thrill 
of  power  and  consequence.  She  was  astonished  to  find 
that  her  father  had  the  reputation  of  being  immensely 
wealthy,  and  that  in  a  certain  section  of  London  society  he 
was  considered  a  person  of  importance.  She  fancied  that 
at  last  her  ambition  was  to  be  realised,  and  that  she  had 
gained  the  vantage  point  for  which  she  had  so  feverishly 
longed,  from  which  she  might  have  an  outlook  upon  the 


THE   STORY  OF  CLARE  GARDYNE.  47 

world  and  choose  the  position  best  suited  to  her  tempera- 
ment and  capabilities.  She  was  only  eighteen,  and  she  had 
all  the  ignorant  self-confidence  of  the  young,  clever  girl, 
Avith  a  vast  amount  of  emotional  steam  to  let  forth,  and  a 
very  definite  reserve  force  of  character  underneath.  One 
thing  she  was  almost  certain  of.  Gladys  was  right ;  and 
it  was  of  no  use  waiting  for  the  Holy  Grail — the  divine 
mystery  of  love — to  be  revealed  to  her  in  this  rush  and 
hurry  of  everyday  life.  Better  marry  for  position  and 
influence  and  opportunity  of  tasting  the  sweets  of  human 
drama,  and  enshrine  her  ideal  in  an  inner  holy  of  holies — a 
standard  probably  as  unrealisable  in  the  practical  sense  as 
the  typical  Christian  standard  is  unrealisable  under  present- 
day  conventions,  but  with  which  her  life  must  be  better 
and  purer,  just  as  the  world  must  be  better  for  an  example 
of  strict  morality,  however  impossible  of  actual  attain- 
ment ! 

And  then  her  father  was  always  impressing  upon  her 
that  she  might  not  continue  always  to  enjoy  these  advan- 
tages ;  that  his  life  was  uncertain,  his  income,  notwith- 
standing the  extravagant  reports  which  he  encouraged 
concerning  it,  precarious  ;  that,  in  short,  it  would  be  well 
for  her  to  secure  herself  by  a  good  marriage  against  the 
caprices  of  Fate. 

For  two  seasons  she  sailed  upon  a  sunlit  stream  of 
pleasure.  She  was  presented  at  one  of  the  Drawing-rooms 
by  the  wife  of  the  Secretary  of  State  for  the  Colonies,  and 
was  asked  out  a  good  deal,  going  with  her  father  to  the 
formal  receptions  of  those  smart  ladies  whose  husbands  or 
connections  were  interested  in  the  financial  or  political 
affairs  of  Australia,  and  to  the  houses  of  less  fashionable 
people  of  different  grades  of  importance,  from  colonial 
magnates  in  London  to  City  people  with  whom  her  father 
appeared  to  be  on  terms  of  business  intimacy.  The  smart 
entertainments,  as  far  as  her  personal  part  in  them  went,  she 
found  dull ;  but  interesting  to  watch,  because  of  the  glitter 


48  MRS.   TREGASKISS. 

of  diamonds  and  orders,  and  the  glimpses  the}7  gave  her  of 
a  sphere  to  which,  she  was  shrewd  enough  to  see,  she  was 
only  admitted  on  the  baldest  sufferance.  The  other  par- 
ties were  more  amusing,  because  at  them  she  found  herself 
less  of  a  nobody,  but  at  the  same  time  her  very  success 
jarred  against  the  searching  and  inflexible  candour  of  her 
nature,  which  made  her  intolerant,  almost  to  loathing,  of 
what  was  false  and  meretricious.  She  began  to  see  that 
she  was  sought  after  because  she  was  believed  to  be  an 
heiress,  and  she  saw  also  that  those  higher  in  the  social 
scale  despised  her  father  and  herself,  and  were  agreeable 
only  in  proportion  with  what  they  expected  to  get  out  of 
them  ;  while  those  lower  down  fawned  upon  her  for  the 
sake  of  obtaining  a  lever  to  a  higher  stratum.  She  dis- 
cussed the  situation  with  Gladys  Warraker,  who  in  her 
way  was  as  clear-headed,  but  much  less  romantic,  and  they 
agreed  that  society  was  pharisaical  and  self-seeking,  and 
that  to  find  sincerity  one  must  either  command  or  disown 
it.  Then  in  such  moods  Clare  would  turn  in  imagination, 
as  the  hart  to  the  water  brooks,  toward  the  picture  memory 
gave  of  the  untainted  freshness  of  the  New  World,  and 
would  tell  herself  that  there  all  men  were  chivalrous,  all 
motives  pure  ;  that  in  the  free  forest,  amid  the  healthful 
influence  of  nature,  communities  must  be  exempt  from 
mean  striving,  paltry  affectation,  and  the  mental  obliquity 
which  can  see  no  distinction  between  truth  and  seeming. 
After  all,  the  more  solid,  brilliant, — in  the  matter  of  dia- 
monds, and  silver,  and  gold  plate, — and  Philistine  Queen's 
Gate  cii'cle  was  only  an  outstretching  of  the  small,  shifty, 
aesthetic  West  Kensington  sphere  :  and  beyond  there  was 
always  the  larger  truth,  the  unattainable. 

So  things  went  on.  Mr.  Gardyne  looked  haggard  and 
worried,  and  it  seemed  to  Clare  that  at  the  numerous  ban- 
quets in  Queen's  Gate  an  invisible  spectre  of  Care  sat  at 
the  board  between  her  father  and  herself.  Then  Mr.  Gar- 
dyne  suddenly  resigned  his  appointment  as  agent-general. 


THE  STORY   OF  CLARE  GARDYNE.  49 

The  colonial  magnates  dropped  off  in  an  unaccountable 
way  from  Clare's  visiting  list,  and  the  financial  element 
and  a  certain  seedy,  rakish-looking  type  of  aristocracy  came 
more  into  evidence.  It  was  then  that  a  greater  ostenta- 
tion than  at  first  marked  the  conduct  of  the  establishment, 
and  also  of  Mr.  Gardyne's  speech  and  bearing.  He  boasted 
of  his  wealth  with  an  openness  that  made  his  daughter 
wince,  dispensed  patronage  with  a  lofty  air,  and  took  to 
taking  more  wine  at  dinner  than  was  quite  compatible 
with  a  discreet  demeanour.  It  was  at  this  time  that  the 
two  men  who  were  instrumental  in  turning  the  current  of 
Clare  Gardyne's  destiny  came  prominently  forward  among 
her  acquaintances.  One  of  these  was  Keith  Tregaskiss, 
the  man  she  afterward  married  ;  the  other  was  Sir  Walter 
Chisholm,  to  whom  she  became  engaged  a  few  weeks  after 
her  first  introduction  to  Mr.  Tregaskiss. 

The  two  men  were  a  distinct  contrast  to  each  other. 
Sir  Walter  was  young  ;  he  was  in  a  cavalry  regiment ;  he 
was  good-looking,  and  he  was  supposed  to  be  clever.  In  his 
way  he  was  rather  a  dilettante,  had  written  some  odd,  flip- 
pant, paradoxical  essays  on  modern  culture,  and  had  had  a 
play — which  only  ran  a  fortnight — produced  at  one  of  the 
leading  London  theatres.  He  was  certainly  agreeable  ;-his 
reputation  was  no  more  tarnished  than  that  of  many  a  rather 
fast  London  man  ;  and  the  stories  circulated  about  him  were 
not  of  the  kind  which  come  to  the  ears  of  a  young  girl  out 
of  society.  Had  he  kept  a  cleaner  record,  his  chances  of 
securing  an  eligible  wife  "  in  society "  would  probably 
have  been  greater.  As  it  was,  his  hunting-ground  was 
among  the  outsiders.  Two  reasons  contributed  to  turn 
him  in  the  direction  of  matrimony.  One  was  that  he  was 
very  poor,  and  the  other  that  he  was  considerably  under 
the  thumb  of  his  mother,  who  was  determined  that  he 
should  marry  an  heiress  and  redeem  the  family  property 
and  the  family  name. 

He  had  met  Miss  Gardyne  at  the  house  of  a  fashionable 


50  MRS.    TREGASKISS. 

lady,  whose  husband  was  on  a  board  of  directors  of  which 
Mr.  Gardyne  was  a  member,  and  who  was  also  nibbling  at 
a  company  Mr.  Gardyne  was  floating,  unwilling  to  com- 
promise himself  till  quite  assured  of  the  soundness  of  the 
venture.  Sir  Walter  was  struck  by  Clare's  beaut}7.  He 
was  told  that  she  was  an  heiress,  and  Australian  fortunes 
being  always  a  more  or  less  floating  quantity,  hers  was 
given  the  full  benefit  of  supposition.  Gardyne  was  reputed 
a  millionaire.  Lady  Chisholm  set  herself  to  verify  the 
rumour,  and  succeeded  in  a  sufficiently  satisfactory  man- 
ner to  warrant  her  in  calling  upon  Miss  Gardyne.  Sir 
Walter  did  not  let  the  grass  grow  under  his  feet  ;  more- 
over, he  was  genuinely  attracted.  Clare  was  a  little 
dazzled.  She  had  never  been  in  love,  and  was  quite  ready 
to  accept  her  flattered  interest  in  this  very  handsome  and 
clever  young  man  as  a  real  attachment.  A  few  days 
together  in  a  foreign  hotel,  during  the  Easter  vacation, 
concluded  the  affair.  Three  weeks  after  their  return  he 
proposed,  and  she  accepted  him. 

There  was  no  question  of  rivalry  between  him  and  Mr. 
Tregaskiss.  Tregaskiss  was  shy.  He  fell  in  love,  after 
his  fashion,  before  he  had  known  Clare  a  week.  Had  not 
Sir-  Walter  appeared  on  the  scene  he  would  have  asked 
her  to  marry  him  at  the  first  symptom  of  encouragement. 
As  it  was,  Sir  Walter  overawed  him.  In  spite  of  all  poor 
Clare's  fine  notions  about  the  Australian  spirit  of  equality, 
and  freedom  from  snobbism,  there  was  in  Tregaskiss  just 
a  touch  of  the  bourgeois  respect  for  any  kind  of  a  title. 
What  Clare  took  for  modest  reserve  and  disinterested 
chivalry,  for  she  had  divined  his  feelings  toward  her,  was 
partly  due  to  this  sense  of  inferiority,  and  partly  to  the 
bush  man's  lack  of  social  training.  He  took  it  for  granted 
that  Miss  Gardyne  would  prefer  to  marry  a  baronet  rather 
than  an  Australian  squatter,  and  his  vanity  shrank  from 
the  mortification  of  a  refusal.  As  far  as  was  compatible 
with  a  not  particularly  high  order  of  ability,  Tregaskiss 


THE  STORY  OF  CLARE  GARDYNE.  51 

had  a  robust  power  of  reasoning,  and  could  often  seize 
a  point  to  his  advantage.  But  he  made  the  mistake 
common  to  material  natures,  of  making  no  allowance  for 
the  loftier  qualities  and  for  the  influence  of  imagination. 
A  logic  which  gi'ovels  with  its  wings  clipped  seldom  gets 
a  right  view  of  tilings.  It  is  not  improbable  that  had 
Tregaskiss  pushed  his  cause  boldly  at  the  beginning,  Clare, 
fascinated  by  her  own  romantic  conceptions  of  life  in  the 
wilds,  might  have  allowed  him  to  capture  her  fancy  before 
Sir  Walter  had  had  time  to  enchain  it.  Oddly  enough,  at 
that  time  she  found  Tregaskiss  personally  attractive.  His 
Viking  physique  and  the  savour  in  him  of  nature  and  of  an 
open  air  simplicity  of  manner  were  all  in  his  favour.  He 
was  at  this  time  a  muscular  young  man  of  six-and-twenty, 
with  the  freshness  of  youth  still  upon  him.  No  greater 
contrast  could  be  imagined  to  the  London  masher  or  the 
Kensington  aesthete.  He  had  animal  pluck  and  vigour,  and 
a  subdued  boisterousness  which  presented  itself  as  frank 
daring,  restive  under  the  pressure  of  conventions. 

His  smile  was  sweet,  his  teeth  then  white,  his  blue  eyes 
clear  and  shining.  He  was  one  of  those  men  who  can  put 
on  their  garb  of  polite  manners  in  a  drawing-room  with 
a  not  unbecoming  stiffness,  but  who  will  doff  it  with  joyful 
ease  when  outside  the  restrictions  of  civilisation,  and  it  is 
very  difficult  to  discriminate,  in  the  case  of  an  enthusiastic 
woman  especially,  between  the  gentlemanly  instinct  which 
has  conquered  barbaric  associations  and  the  barbaric 
instinct  peeping  out  from  under  the  mask  of  social  forms. 
Clare,  at  any  rate,  was  not  acute  enough  to  make  the  dis- 
tinction. In  Tregaskiss  she  beheld  a  sincere  and  clean- 
souled  embodiment  of  the  primitive  and  noble  forces.  She 
felt  a  wish,  after  having  engaged  herself  to  Sir  Walter,  to 
keep  him  for  a  friend,  but  he  drew  back,  was  constrained, 
faintly  resentful,  and  avoided  her  society.  This  was  how 
she  found  out  that  he  cared  for  her,  and  she  pitied  him. 

Her  engagement  to  Sir  Walter  did  not,  however,  last 


52  MRS.   TREGASKISS. 

many  weeks.  The  crash  came  with  tragic  unexpectedness. 
One  evening  about  nine  o'clock  a  revolver  shot  echoed 
through  the  house  in  Queen's  Gate,  and  when,  some  two 
hours  after,  Sir  Walter  brought  \\lsjiancee  and  her  chaperon 
home  from  the  theatre,  having  left  her  father  at  his  request 
to  smoke  a  cigar  and  work  off  arrears  of  correspondence, 
the  party  were  met  by  the  butler,  who  opened  the  door 
with  a  blanched  face.  A  strange  doctor  was  in  the  hall, 
and  the  news  was  broken  to  Clare  that  her  father  had  blown 
out  his  brains. 

The  cause  of  the  tragedy  was  known  soon  enough.  A 
company  bubble  had  burst.  There  had  been  nefarious 
dealings,  in  which  the  Leichardt's  Land  Government  was 
involved.  The  late  agent-general  had  chosen  the  shortest 
way  out  of  the  tangle  of  living. 

Clare  Gardyne  was  an  orphan,  penniless,  and  branded  as 
the  daughter  of  a  scoundrel.  The  pretty  house  of  cards 
toppled  as  though  a  gust  had  struck  it.  Creditors 
swarmed,  friends  held  aloof  ;  even  the  Warrakers  were 
cold.  Gladys  had  lately  married,  according  to  her  theories, 
and  was  upon  a  honeymoon  tour  through  India.  Lady 
Chisholm  did  not  even  leave  a  card  of  8}rmpathy.  Clare 
heard  that  she  was  going  about  representing  herself  and 
her  son  as  victims  of  the  most  heinous  fraud.  A  little  later 
Sir  Walter  wrote,  on  the  eve  of  a  sudden  trip  to  America, 
stating  his  deep  regret  that  altered  circumstances  compelled 
him  to  release  Miss  Gardyne  from  an  engagement  which 
had  been  entered  into  upon  a  misconception,  and  which,  if 
continued,  could  only  result  in  misery  to  both. 

So  from  the  fairy  princess,  upon  whom  the  world  had 
smiled,  and  at  whose  feet  the  handsome  prince  had  knelt, 
Clare  found  herself  transformed  into  the  outcast  beggar 
maid.  Mrs.  Man-able  came  to  the  rescue.  She  deemed  it 
her  duty  to  offer  her  niece  a  home,  and  in  her  shame, 
desolation,  and  bewilderment,  Clare  subdued  her  horror 
of  the  Nonconformist  surroundings,  and  went  meekly  with 


THE  STORY   OF  CLARE  GARDYNE.  53 

her  aunt  to  the  bow-windowed  villa  in  the  provincial 
town. 

She  was  filled  with  an  immeasurable  contempt  for  the 
heartless  time-serving  of  the  people  among  whom  she  had 
lived,  and  for  the  tinsel  glitter  of  her  London  world.  And 
then  her  woman's  pride,  her  girl's  vanity,  and  something 
stronger  and  deeper  in  her  than  either,  were  wounded  and 
bleeding,  past  cure.  She  had  not  really  loved  Sir  Walter, 
but  she  had  believed  that  he  loved  her.  Now  she  despised 
and  hated  him.  She  felt  bruised  and  beaten  into  one  great 
throe  of  longing  to  be  done  with  her  past  forever.  In  her 
passionate  revulsion,  the  picture  of  Australia,  which  her 
fancy  had  been  working  up  all  these  years,  showed  itself  as 
a  vision  of  paradise.  When,  a  month  after  her  father's 
death,  Tregaskiss  offered  her  the  key  to  this  paradise,  and 
a  means  of  escape  from  the  stifling  Marrable  prison,  which 
now  seemed  more  intolerable  than  even  in  her  childhood, 
she  accepted  the  offer  with  hardly  a  question.  She  saw 
Tregaskiss  as  a  lover,  true,  loyal,  strong,  disinterested. 
Had  he  not  been  faithful,  when  the  man  to  whom  she  had 
been  pledged  basely  deserted  her?  In  truth,  he  was  at 
his  best  in  the  diffident  deference  of  a  genuine  affection, 
and  he  met  her  with  a  certain  pitying,  yet  blunt,  air  of 
dominance,  quite  in  consonance  with  his  somewhat  master- 
ful nature,  which  just  now  gave  her  a  grateful  sense  of 
support.  Thus  he  appealed  to  her  most  generous  impulses. 
Should  she  pause  cold-bloodedly  to  analyse  her  exact  senti- 
ments and  the  due  proportions  of  love  and  gratitude  in  her 
feelings  toward  him?  Should  she  not  rather  respond  gen- 
erously, bravely,  after  the  manner  in  which  he  had  come 
to  her  ?  And  what  was  she  ?  she  asked  herself;  what  was 
her  position,  what  the  advantages  she  could  bring  to  him, 
that  she  should  exact  an  overflowing  measure  of  all  the 
heroic  qualities? 

He  was  going  back  to  his  Western  station  in  three  weeks. 
Business  arrangements  made  it  impossible  for  him  to  defer 


54  MRS.   TREGASKISS. 

the  date.  Would  she  many  him  at  once  and  go  home 
with  him  to  her  beloved  Australia  ?  The  "  West  "  was  only 
a  name  to  her.  He  had  told  her  of  great  plains,  of  gidia 
scrub  ;  had  made  lightof  hardships  ;  had  painted  everything 
in  the  most  glowing  colours.  That  was  a  way  of  Tregas- 
kiss'. One  of  his  mottoes  was,  "  Praise  your  own,  and  the 
world  will  think  well  of  it."  He  had  given  the  full  count 
of  his  thousands  of  cattle,  their  probable  rate  of  increase, 
the  confidence  which  the  bank  had  in  him  as  a  man  of 
brains  and  mettle — he  explained  that  the  station  had  been 
purchased  on  terms  of  mortgage.  A  few  good  seasons  and 
he  should  be  a  very  rich  man.  He  had  a  notion  of  enter- 
ing the  legislative  assembly.  How  should  she  like  to  be 
instrumental  in  forming  the  destinies  of  a  new  country  ? 
She  snatched  at  the  fancy.  That  had  always  been  her 
ambition.  And  then  what  might  she  not  do  for  the  rude, 
honest,  magnanimous  souls,  pining  for  light  and  leading, 
who  would  be  under  her  influence  !  She  remembered  the 
army  of  shepherds  and  shearers  on  the  Ubi.  What  graces 
and  refinements  she  would  introduce  ;  what  sweet,  whole- 
some, earnest  living  !  It  was  for  the  moment  an  intoxicat- 
ing prospect.  How  much  grander  to  be  the  wife  of  a  man 
like  Tregaskiss  than  the  wife  of  Sir  Walter  Chisholm,  who 
would  make  of  her  a  mei-e  link  in  the  chain  of  an  effete 
civilisation. 

That  is  how  she  came  to  marry  Keith  Tregaskiss. 


CHAPTER   V. 

OVER    THE    PLAINS. 

THE  buggy  crawled  over  the  interminable  desert.  The 
horses  were  tired,  and,  with  steaming  flanks  and  panting 
breath,  dragged  their  limbs  heavily,  roused  every  now  and 
then  by  an  impatient  curse  from  Tregaskiss  and  a  flick  of 
the  whip.  He  had  lashed  them  mercilessly  at  the  start  to 
punish  them  for  the  trouble  they  had  given  him,  and  there 
were  long  weals  raising  their  unkempt  coats. 

"  They  won't  feel  much  inclined  to  bolt  to-night,"  he 
said  grimly.  At  the  camping-place  they  were  to  find  a 
change  of  horses,  and  the  black  boy  who  had  brought 
them  would  take  charge  of  these  and  drive  them  slowly 
homeward.  The  camping-place,  a  gidia  scrub,  which 
fringed  a  water- course,  was  still  a  blur  upon  the  horizon 
in  front.  It  was  getting  toward  sundown,  and  they  had 
been  travelling  since  early  morning. 

Oh,  these  desert  plains  !  For  miles  and  miles  they 
stretch,  a  dreary  brown  expanse  ;  in  summer,  scorched, 
dried  up,  and  glaring  ;  in  winter,  swept  by  chill  east- 
erly winds.  The  loose,  sandy  soil  grows  the  prickly  spen- 
nifex  grass,  which  has  leaves  barbed  with  needle-like 
points,  and  long  stalks  stretching  along  the  ground,  and 
taking  root  at  intervals  to  put  forth  more  spiky  tussocks. 
Sometimes  there  are  patches  of  the  horrible  poison  bush, 
and  sometimes  a  clump  of  starved  gidia  trees  or  of  stunted 
yellow  jack.  Sometimes  there  are  no  trees  at  all  to  break 
the  dead  level  monotony.  A  belt  of  scrub  in  the  far  distance 
is  as  a  cloud  ;  and  there  stands  out,  silhouetted  against 
the  sky,  the  shape  of  an  animal  or  the  weird-looking  out- 

65 


56  MRS.   TREGASKISS. 

line  of  windmill  pump.  For  in  this  land  of  drought, 
dams  and  wells  abound  in  all  the  great  stations,  and  no 
one  dreams  of  riding  on  a  journey  without  water-bags 
hung  on  the  saddle  or  round  the  horse's  neck.  And  even 
so,  if  the  traveller  is  a  bad  buslnnan,  as  the  saying  goes, 
and  loses  his  bearings,  the  canvas  water-bag  soon  runs  dry, 
and  the  chances  are  that  some  stray  stockman  or  kangaroo 
hunter  will  one  day,  in  his  wanderings,  come  across  a 
dried  up,  mummy-like  body,  or  a  bundle  of  bleached 
bones,  lying  among  the  spennifex  bushes  or  under  a  gidia 
tree. 

When  first  Clare  had  come  to  the  Leura  country — in  a 
dry  season — she  used  to  stare  in  astonishment  at  hearing 
her  husband  and  the  black  boys  and  stockmen  talk  of 
"crossing  the  water-course,"  or  of  "following  up  the 
creek  ";  for  she  could  see  no  sign  of  water  or  creek-bed, 
only  perhaps  a  few  grass-gi'own  holes  far  apart  and  with 
no  visible  connection.  But  it  was  explained  to  her  that 
these  dry  holes  were  the  "  creek."  And  one  rainless  day, 
when  there  had  been  no  sign  of  moisture  in  the  heavens, 
she  beheld  a  miracle  in  the -shape  of  a  wide,  roaring,  rush- 
ing river  pouring  its  flood  over  the  scorched  grass  and 
parched  sand,  and  was  told  that  the  creek  had  "  come 
down,"  because  of  a  great  thunderstorm  at  the  heads,  and 
that  they  must  turn  back  or  else  swim  the  horses.  This 
miracle,  however,  had  not  happened  for  two  years. 

The  buggy  was  of  American  build,  with  two  seats  and 
a  rough  framework  supporting  a  covering  of  oil-cloth. 
Clare  and  her  husband  were  in  front,  and  Claribel,  the 
half-caste,  sat  behind  with  Ning,  while  the  baby  was 
cradled  by  turns  in  the  arms  of  its  mother  and  its  nurse. 
The  insects,  the  heat,  and  the  uneven  progress  of  the 
buggy  fretted  the  poor  little  creature,  and  its  moans  irri- 
tated Tregaskiss.  Ning  was  tired  and  cross,  too,  and  as 
Clare,  with  throbbing  head,  aching  back,  and  tired  arms, 
tried  to  soothe  first  one  child  and  now  the  other,  she  had  a 


OVER  THE  PLAINS.  57 

grotesque  fancy,  in  moments  of  dulled  consciousness,  that 
this  was  some  sort  of  purgatorial  torture  she  was  going 
through  ;  and  when  her  husband,  startled  by  the  odd 
sound  of  the  laugh  with  which  she  pulled  herself  together, 
asked  what  she  was  thinking  of,  answered  : 

"  Oh,  only  that  it  was  a  pity  Dante  never  came  to  the 
Never-Never  country  !  " 

"  Good  Lord  !  "  Tregaskiss  ejaculated  contemptuously, 
and  whipped  on  the  horses,  not  thinking  it  worth  while  to 
pursue  the  subject  further.  Presently,  however,  as  he 
turned  suddenly,  fancying  the  whip  had  flicked  her,  he 
was  struck  by  her  extreme  pallor  and  a  curious  dazed 
look  in  her  face.  She  caught  at  the  rail  of  the  buggy. 
"  Please  hold  baby  steady  on  my  lap,"  she  murmured. 

Tregaskiss  hastily  shifted  the  reins  and  clasped  the 
child,  while  she  slowly  straightened  herself.  "  What  is 
it  ?  You're  not  going  to  faint  !  Hold  hard  a  moment , 
I'll  get  you  a  nip  of  brandy." 

"  No,  no  ;  this  is  better  !  " 

She  fumbled  in  her  pocket,  shakily  producing  a  small 
bottle  and  medicine  glass,  and  succeeded  in  pouring  out 
and  swallowing  some  of  the  mixture  before  the  blackness, 
which  was  beginning  to  rise,  had  blotted  out  everything 
in  front  of  her.  The  dose  immediately  revived  her,  send- 
ing a  little  shock  through  her  body,  and  for  a  moment  or 
two  causing  her  heart  to  beat  violently. 

"  What  is  it  ?"  Tregaskiss  asked. 

"  Nitro-glycerine,  I  think.     Dr.  Geneste  gave  it  to  me." 

"  Geneste  ! "  cried  Tregaskiss,  pulling  up  and  looking 
at  her  thorough^  alarmed.  "  Old  dear,  it's  nothing  but 
being  done  up,  is  it  ?  Nitro-glycerine  !  Geneste  !  "  he  ex- 
claimed. "  Where  on  earth  did  you  pick  him  up?" 

"  I  forgot — I  didn't  tell  you  I  fainted — or  something 
yesterday,  and  Mrs.  Ruffey  brought  him  in  to  see  me." 

"  Fainted  !  And  you  never  said  a  word  to  me  about  it  ! 
How  should  I  have  known  you  weren't  up  to  the  journey, 


58  MRS.   TREGASKISS. 

which  is  evident  enough.  I  might  have  spelled  a  day  at 

Cedar  Hill.  But  you  will  always  make  d d  mysteries. 

Well,  if  you  choose  to  kill  yourself,  it's  your  own  look- 
out." 

Tregaskiss'  genuine  concern  vented  itself  in  anger. 
Clare  deprecatingly  protested.  "  It  was  nothing.  She 
hadn't  wanted  to  delay  him.  There  was  really  no  need  to 
worry  over  a  fainting  fit.  Numbers  of  people  fainted " 

"  Why,  I  dare  say  !  But  you  do  always  make  d d 

mysteries,  especially  about  anything  that  upsets  you. 
What's  the  good  ?  That's  not  my  way.  If  I'm  upset  I 
let  'em  know  it." 

This  was  certainly  the  case.  Over  the  minor  ills  of  life 
Tregaskiss  blustered.  Clare,  anxious  to  credit  him  with 
the  higher  qualities,  forced  herself  to  believe  that  under 
some  great  misfortune  he  might  display  an  unsuspected 
heroism.  She  laughed  nervously,  and  again  declared  that 
"  it  was  nothing." 

"  Hiiro-glycerine  !  "  Tregaskiss  resumed.  "  Who  ever 
heard  of  such  a  thing?  I'll  back  against  it  good  old  honest 
*  Three  Stars.'  That's  what  I'm  going  to  give  you." 

He  threw  down  the  reins  and  rummaged  in  one  of  the 
bags  at  his  feet  for  an  iron  cup.  The  brandy  he  poured 
from  a  flask  that  he  carried  in  his  pouch.  Then  he  swore 
at  the  black  boy,  who  was  riding  ahead  with  the  pack-horse, 
for  going  out  of  hearing,  and  bade  him  unstrap  and  fetch 
the  water-bag  that  was  slung  to  the  back  of  the  buggy. 
He  scolded  the  half-caste  nurse,  too,  for  not  having  taken 
the  baby  from  her  mistress,  and  passed  the  infant  over  the 
back  of  the  seat,  so  it  awoke  and  cried.  He  made  Clare 
swallow  a  strong  dose  of  the  brandy,  drank  some  himself, 
ordered  Tommy  George  to  push  on  to  The  Grave,  unload 
the  pack  and  prepare  the  camp,  and  finally  lashed  the  tired 
horses  into  a  feeble  trot,  which  brought  them  to  the  camp- 
ing-place as  the  sun  was  setting. 

The  Grave  was  a  grassy  pocket  between  a  gidia  scrub 


OVER  THE  PLAINS.  59 

and  a  shallow  creek,  now  a  bed  of  dry  sand.  It  had  its 
name  from  a  long  narrow  mound  under  an  iron-bark  green 
tree,  and  an  inscription  rudely  cut  in  the  bark,  which 
told  that  hei'e  a  shepherd  was  buried.  Vegetation  was 
comparatively  luxuriant  along  the  water-course.  The 
coolabah  trees  were  more  leafy,  and  an  undergrowth  of 
tall  grass  tussocks  and  low  shrubs  spread  on  each  side  of 
the  broad  sandy  bed.  Tommy  George  and  his  fellow 
black  boy  had  hobbled  the  pack-horses  and  were  rigging 
the  tent,  and  the  fresh  relay  of  buggy  horses,  under  the 
charge  of  a  third  black  boy,  had  arrived,  and  were  grazing 
with  bells  round  their  necks.  Behind  rose  the  dense  gidia 
scrub,  interspersed  with  green  trees  and  sandal-wood  bushes, 
which  in  this  Leura  country  alternates  with  the  vast 
stretches  of  plain.  The  gidia  here  grew  to  a  greater  height 
than  in  the  starved,  sickly  clumps  which  were  dotted  about 
the  desert  flat.  They  are  strange,  melancholy  trees,  with  stiff 
hard  leaves  of  a  moonlight  gray,  and  straight  black  trunks 
that  give  them  the  appearance  of  being  in  mourning. 
Clare  did  not  dislike  the  gidia  scrubs.  Though  they  were 
so  different  from  the  luxuriant  jungle-like  scrubs  of  the 
Ubi  which  were  associated  with  her  girlhood,  and  of  which 
she  had  kept  a  glorified  recollection,  they  had  a  weird 
beauty  of  their  own,  which,  in  certain  moods  of  hers,  exer- 
cised a  soothing  effect  upon  the  nerves.  She  liked  the 
curious  moaning  sound  that  the  wind  made  in  the  wiry 
leaves,  and  then  the  faint  sweet  scent  of  the  sandal-wood 
growing  among  the  gidia  roused  dreamy  fancies,  and  was 
peculiarly  agreeable  to  her.  There  were  still  some  blos- 
soms left,  though  it  was  late  November,  and  the  sandal- 
wood  blooms  in  early  spring. 

It  was  a  relief  to  get  out  of  the  buggy  and  stretch 
cramped  limbs.  The  grim  purgatorial  fancy  had  vanished. 
The  carnp  fire  showed  a  scene  of  homely  wildness.  Tiny 
flying  things  were  about,  but  the  black  boys  had  piled 
green  brambles,  which  made  a  column  of  smoke,  and  in  its 


60  MRS.   TREGASKISS. 

shadow  there  was  a  freedom  from  the  mosquitoes,  whoso 
hum  mingled  with  the  sti'ange  buzz  of  insect  life  that  after 
sundown  haunts  the  bush.  It  is  at  this  hour  that  the 
flights  of  parrots  and  cockatoos  end  ;  and  the  harsh  cicadae 
whirrings  and  shrill  chatterings  and  screechings  of  the  day 
are  hushed.  Then  the  wallabies  and  opossums  and  scrub 
creatures  come  forth,  and  the  dingoes  start  their  dreary 
howl. 

Clare  took  the  baby  again,  and  the  wee  hungry  thing, 
fed  and  appeased,  opened  its  eyes  and  crowed,  while 
Claribel  helped  the  black  boys,  and  Tregaskiss  unharnessed 
the  horses  and  got  out  rugs  and  provisions.  Tommy 
George  with  a  tomahawk  cleared  the  ground  under  the 
tent  of  gidia  tufts  and  prickly  twigs,  and  strewed  it  with 
leaves,  over  which  Claribel  spread  a  blanket.  King  forgot 
her  fretfulness  for  a  little  while  in  the  excitement  of  the 
preparations,  but  presently  whined  : 

"  Cobbon,  mine  thirsty.  Daddy,  where  me  find  water  ? 
Mine  no  find  water." 

Mrs.  Tregaskiss  explored  the  dried  bed  of  the  creek  and 
then  echoed  Ning's  cry.  "  What  are  we  going  to  do  for 
water  ?  The  bags  are  empty." 

"  It's  all  right,"  said  Tregaskiss  curtly.  "  You  are  not 
much  of  a  bushwoman,  after  all.  Ask  the  black  boys." 

Tommy  George  grinned.  "  No  fear,  missus.  Plenty 
water.  Sit  down  along  a  creek."  And  then  he  dug  a  hole 
in  the  sand,  and  to  Ning's  delight  the  hole  slowly  became 
a  little  pool,  as  water  bubbled  up  from  below.  The  tin 
"  billy  "  was  filled  and  set  on  the  fire  to  boil  ;  the  salt  beef 
and  bread  and  pickles,  and  a  pot  of  jam  Mrs.  Ruffey  had 
put  up  for  Ning,  spread  out  ;  the  quart-pot  of  tea  was 
made,  and  the  travellers  ate  and  were  refreshed.  After  tea, 
the  water-hole  was  widened  for  the  horses  to  drink,  and 
they,  contented,  hobbled  to  pasture,  their  bells  tinkling  as 
they  moved.  Tregaskiss  lit  his  pipe  and  stretched  himself 
with  big  head  on  a  valise  ;  the  black  boys  gathered  round 


OVER  THE  PLMNS.  61 

their  own  fire.  Baby  and  Ning  were  given  a  sort  of  bath 
in  a  tin  dish,  and  by-and-by  laid  to  sleep  among  the 
blankets  on  their  bed  of  leaves,  with  Claribel  keeping 
drowsy  guard. 

Clare  too  lay  down  at  the  entrance  to  the  tent.  She 
could  not  bear  to  be  within.  She  wanted  to  feel  the  vast 
heavens  over  her — the  wide  world  around  her  ;  wanted  to 
yield  herself  without  hindrance  to  the  strange  fascination 
of  night  in  the  Australian  bush. 

The  moon,  not  yet  full,  threw  ghostly  shadows,  and  the 
grass  tussocks  and  spinnifex  bushes  took  grotesque  shapes. 
There  was  a  faint  aromatic  scent  in  the  air.  Life  seemed 
to  breathe  in  every  leaf,  to  lurk  in  the  dimness  everywhere, 
and  yet  the  sense  of  loneliness  was  overpowering.  The 
bells  had  grown  fainter,  but  the  insect  hum  had  intensified, 
and  through  it  she  could  hear  the  "  hop-hop  "  of  wallabies, 
and  now  and  then  a  crashing  of  underwood  far  off  in  the 
scrub,  as  some  wild  cattle  made  their  way  out.  The  blacks 
were  still  chattering,  but  Tregaskiss,  his  pipe  between  his 
teeth,  was  huddled  in  his  blanket,  and  might  have  been 
asleep,  but  for  an  occasional  muttered  oath  and  slap  at  a 
tormenting  mosquito.  He  roused  for  a  moment  to  swear 
at  the  black  boys  and  shout :  "  Give  those  horses  there  a 
shoot  back.  Can't  you  hear  Priam's  bell  working  off? 
Shorten  his  hobbles  a  ring  or  two.  He's  a  brute  to  ramble." 
He  rolled  over  again.  Then  after  a  time,  "  Clare,  are  you 
asleep?" 

"  No,  Keith,  I  can't  close  my  eyes." 

"  Nor  I.  D n  the  mosquitoes.  I  don't  believe  that's 

Priam's  bell,  after  all.  Some  bullock-drovers,  perhaps, 
camped  in  the  other  pocket.  Pickaninny  all  right?" 

"Sleeping  soundty."     Presently  she  added,  "  Keith  !  " 

A  snore  was  the  answer. 

Clare  lay  broad  awake  and  looked  up  at  the  stars,  the 
Southern  Cross  with  its  pointers  unperceptibly  mounting  ; 
the  Pleiades  ;  the  Magellan  clouds  ;  and  Venus  had  risen 


62  MRS.   TREGASKISS. 

over  the  tops  of  the  trees  so  brilliant  that  she  seemed  to 
throw  forth  a  defined  ray  of  light ;  and  after  her  Mars  had 
become  visible.  There  were  all  the  wonderful  southern 
constellations,  so  familiar  to  Clare  that  she  might  have 
known  them  for  centuries.  And  yet,  during  the  most  im- 
pressionable years  of  her  life  she  had  lived  under  northern 
stars,  and  had  studied  them  as  illustrations,  when  she  had 
learned  astronomy  from  the  celestial  globes  in  the  school- 
room. She  tried  now  to  recall  the  Great  Bear  and  Charles' 
Wain  and  the  rest,  but  they  were  a  blur,  and  her  mind  re- 
fused to  make  any  map  of  them.  Odd  !  For  she  knew 
that  if  she  were  to  go  away  toward  the  North  Pole,  and 
live  there  to  be  a  hundred,  and  never  see  Aldebaran  and 
the  Scorpion  and  the  Southern  Cross  again,  they  would  be 
as  clear  to  her  mind's  eye  at  her  dying  day  as  they  were 
to  her  bodily  eyes  this  night.  Well,  perhaps  she  had 
known  those  stars  centuries  ago,  and  in  some  long  dead 
existence  had  steered  by  them,  dreamed  beneath  them. 
Perhaps  it  was  the  vague  striving  in  her  of  passionate 
memories  from  that  richer  existence  which  gave  her  at 
times  the  bursting  feeling  of  yearning  and  unrest,  the  ter- 
rible dumb  straining  toward  some  undefined  and  wholly 
unattainable  joy.  Perhaps,  in  this  cramped,  crude  life  to 
which  she  seemed  condemned,  she  was  expiating  the  vices 
of  a  too  voluptuous  or  too  ambitious  past.  Her  fancy  went 
wandering  in  conjectures  of  the  mystic  sort.  During  her 
stay  with  the  Wai-rakers  she  had  dabbled,  as  in  these  days 
of  West  Kensington  mysticism  most  imaginative  girls  do 
dabble,  in  the  Pythagorean  theories. 

Gladys  Warraker  and  she  had  firmly  persuaded  them- 
selves that  they  had  been  friends,  sisters,  in  a  former  phase 
of  development.  They  had  revelled  in  the  notion  that 
their  affinities  dated  back  to  the  early  Pharaohs,  for  which 
civilisation  they  had  entertained  a  strong  predilection. 
They  declared  to  each  other  that  it  explained  their  idiosyn- 
crasies. To  be  sure,  Gladys,  unlike  Clare,  bore  no  relation 


OVER  THE  PLAINS.  63 

to  the  Sphinx  type,  but  Gladys  confessed  to  cravings 
toward  the  Greek,  and  Philhellenism  on  the  part  of  the 
Pharaohs  was  almost  prehistoric,  and  quite  satisfactory 
in  the  way  of  argument.  Oh,  of  course  they  must  have 
all  lived  before  !  As  Clare  gazed  into  the  immensity  of 
space,  she  seemed  to  read  in  the  stars  proof  of  her  convic- 
tion. And  if  she -had  lived  before,  and  had  known  Gladys, 
she  must  have  known  others.  Her  husband  !  Clare  shud- 
dered. Must  they  two  go  on,  drawn  together  by  some 
mysterious  attraction,  for  ever  and  ever  in  the  cycle  of 
Fate,  or  might  she  hope,  by  patient  submission  in  this  life, 
for  freedom  in  future  ages.  It  was  a  horrible  thought  that 
she  must  be  bound  for  aeons  upon  aeons  to  that  uncongenial 
companionship.  As  she  lay  she  could  hear  Tregaskiss' 
stertorous  breathing  :  it  affected  her,  even  at  this  distance, 
with  a  distinct  sense  of  repulsion,  and  caused  her  to  shrink 
within  the  circle  of  herself,  so  to  speak,  so  that  she  might 
make  a  kind  of  spiritual  barrier,  which  would  prevent  the 
two  atmospheres  from  mingling.  What  had  her  husband 
been  to  her  in  the  life  that  was  gone  ?  Somehow  he  fitted 
into  the  picture,  and  her  fancy  readily  placed  him  amid 
semi-barbaric  associations.  A  fighting,  conquering,  riot- 
ous-living, mail-clad,  woman-loving  hero — perhaps  one  of 
the  Trojan  set,  or  a  Berserker  maybe.  She  was  getting 
mixed  in  her  chronology  and  laughed  to  herself.  She  had 
never  had  any  faculty  for  dates. 

Tregaskiss'  snores  became  louder.  The  black  boys  were 
now  lying  like  mummies,  rolled  in  their  blankets.  Sud- 
denly the  dingoes  in  the  scrub  behind  set  up  a  prolonged 
and  most  grewsome  howling.  Clare  was  familiar  enough 
with  the  dismal  howl,  which,  even  when  she  heard  it  in 
her  bedroom  at  Mount  Wombo,  made  her  shudder.  But 
here  in  the  wild  it  afflicted  her  with  an  eerie,  indescribable 
horror.  She  was  not  frightened, — of  course  she  knew  that 
dingoes  are  not  creatures  to  be  frightened  of, — but  the 
wailing  got  on  her  nerves,  and  when  the  curlews  joined  in 


64  MRS.   TREGASKISS. 

with  their  miserable  shriek,  she  could  endure  no  longer  to 
lie  still  and  listen,  but  got  up  and  wandered  away  from  the 
camp,  finding  relief  in  movement.  She  had  at  all  times  a 
tendency  to  sleeplessness,  and  would  often  at  home  steal 
out  in  the  starlight  or  moonlight  and  pace  the  bank  of  the 
lagoon,  feeling  a  certain  satisfaction  in  being  thus  alone 
with  nature. 

To-night  she  walked  out  of  sight  of  the  camp,  round 
the  bend  of  the  creek  and  along  the  broad  shallow  water- 
course. Presently  she  got  into  a  sparsely  wooded  pocket, 
mostly  grown  with  the  mournful  coolabah,  or  flooded  gum, 
which  in  the  moonlight  looked  peculiarly  dank  and  deso- 
late. Clare  thought  that  the  buggy  horses  must  all  have 
strayed  here,  the  tinkling  of  the  bells  was  so  distinct  and 
frequent.  Then  as  she  got  near  a  belt  of  gitlia,  which 
seemed  to  bound  the  pocket,  she  became  aware  of  a  differ- 
ent sound  beyond — the  stir  and  coiifused  night  bellow  of 
a  small  mob  of  cattle,  and  the  regular  patrol  of  a  mounted 
stockman  keeping  the  beasts  from  breaking.  The  belt  of 
gidia  narrowed  down  from  the  scrub  to  the  water-course, 
and  at  the  point  was  a  clump  of  big  gum  trees,  that  she 
thought  must  shadow  a  landslip  and  lower  plateau,  for  she 
could  see  the  smoke  and  reflection  of  a  camp-fire  rising,  it 
appeared,  from  several  feet  below.  As  she  approached  the 
gums  more  closely  and  finally  crouched  down  behind  the 
trunk  of  the  largest,  Clare  could  hear  the  voices  of  men 
camped  round  the  fire. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

HOW   LONG  !    HOW   LONG ! 

IT  was  the  usual  camp  talk  ;  she  had  heard  the  same 
sort  of  thing  before.  From  it  she  gleaned  that  the  party 
consisted  of  a  gentleman  drover,  a  stockman,  and  a  young 
"  hand  "  or  two,  who  were  taking  down  fat  cattle  to  Port 
Victoria. 

Somebody  said  : . 

"  I  suppose  3^011  know  that  you're  a  'scab,'  Peter. 
That's  what  you're  called,  isn't  it,  when  you  throw  up  the 
union  ?  " 

"  Scab  or  blackleg — I  dun-now  ;  I  aint  on  the  strike 
any  moi'e  now." 

"  Well,  you're  not  a  shearer,  Peter,  anyhow,  so  what 
were  you  striking  for?" 

"I  dun-now.  When  I  went  to  Ilgandah  with  my  mate, 
lie  went  on  strike  :  arid  Jem  Dowlan  comes  up  to  me,  and 
I  had  to  give  him  ten  shillings,  and  then  he  guv  me  a 
ticket.  I  dun-now  what  they  were  all  doing  ;  but  we 
camped  out  on  the  creek,  and  they  used  to  give  us  a  stick 
of  tobacco  every  other  day.  Then  the  man  that  owned 
the  strike  said  he  had  no  more  money,  and  then  a  chap  gets 
up  and  says  those  can  go  and  get  work  that  wants;  and 
those  that  don't  want  can  fight  to  the  bitter  end  and  ruin 
the  squatters  and  drag  Leichardt's  Land  down  with  them. 
And  then  we  gives  the  chap  three  cheers.  That's  all  I 
know  about  it ;  but  I  bet  there'll  be  a  jolly  row  before  next 
shearing  time.  And  I  know  I  was  jolly  full  of  it  ;  and 
anyway,  I've  sacked  the  union  and  tore  up  my  ticket." 

The  late  striker  who  had  delivered  his  opinions  appeared 

65 


66  MRS.   TREGASKISS. 

to  have  moved  away.  Clare  leaned  over  round  the  trunk 
of  the  gum  tree.  She  could  see  what  seemed  to  be  a 
further  camp-fire,  with  four  black  boys  pla3Ting  euchre  a 
little  way  from  it.  The  striker  had  drifted  toward  them, 
and  she  could  hear  his  voice  saying,  "  Take  it  up,"  as  he 
joined  the  game.  She  recognised  him  as  an  undersized, 
vicious,  unhealthy-looking  lout,  a  waif  whom  Tregaskiss 
had  kept  for  a  few  months  on  Mount  Wombo  and  had  dis- 
missed for  theft. 

"It's  a  fine  union  to  be  made  up  of  things  like  that," 
said  a  voice  which  caused  Mrs.  Tregaskiss  to  start.  "  That 
boy  knows  nothing  about  a  union  ;  and  the  man  who 
owns  it,  and  whom  they  were  cheering,  is  Kelso,  the  labour 
delegate — one  of  the  greatest  scoundrels  unhung.  What 
fools  they  all  are  !  " 

The  voice  was  that  of  Geneste  ;  it  resumed  :  "  I  shall 
go  and  have  a  look  round  the  mob,  boys,  before  I  turn  in. 
Daybreak  sharp,  to-morrow,  for  my  start.  Lucky  I  hit 
your  camp.  I  should  advise  you  to  keep  a  close  watch 
to-night.  A  cattle  smash  in  a  brigalow  scrub  is  no  joke. 
These  Darra  beasts  are  a  wild  lot.  Hand  me  over  the 
tobacco  pouch,  Micklethwaite,  will  you,  and  a  firestick?" 

Clare  crept  closer  to  the  edge  of  the  landslip,  and  craned 
forward  over  the  bristling  herbage  and  rank  grass  that 
screened  the  drop.  She  saw  now  a  nearer  camp-fire,  right 
under  the  shadow  of  the  bank,  which  was  steeper  than 
she  had  supposed.  The  gentleman  drover,  Micklethwaite, 
whom  she  recognised  also  as  having  come  over  once  from 
Cyrus  Chance's  station  to  Mount  Wombo,  was  leaning 
back  against  his  saddle  and  a  roll  of  blankets,  placidly 
smoking.  One  of  the  stockmen  was  on  his  knees  mixing 
and  kneading  the  flour  for  next  day's  damper  on  a  canvas 
baking-board.  A  "billy"  of  tea  simmered  in  the  ashes  ; 
and  there  was  a  larger  billy  in  which  salt  junk  was  boil- 
ing. On  a  flour  bag  a  little  way  off  were  spread  the 
remains  of  the  evening's  meal.  Two  other  men  sprawled 


HOW  LONG!  HOW  LONG!  67 

on  their  blankets  smoking  and  cursing  the  heat,  the  insects, 
and  the  necessity  of  sitting  well  into  the  smoke  of  the  fire, 
in  order  to  escape  from  the  mosquitoes. 

Somebody  remarked  that  the  clouds  had  cleared  off, 
and  Geneste  said  :  "  I  don't  like  this  weather  ;  it  looks  to 
me  as  if  there  would  be  a  long  drought.  By  the  way,  have 
you  seen  anything  of  the  Mount  Woinbo  people  to-day,  on 
their  way  up  ?  " 

"  Tresgaskiss  ?  No.  Shouldn't  wonder  if  he  was  camp- 
ing in  the  other  pocket.  Peter  said  he  heard  horse-bells. 
Somebody  told  me  he  was  bringing  up  his  wife.  Poor 
woman  ! " 

Geneste  went  on  scraping  his  pipe,  and  did  not  speak. 
He  sat  down  on  a  fallen  tree  and  tapped  his  pipe  against 
the  bark.  The  firelight  illumined  his  clean-cut  face,  and 
showed  lines  of  determination  about  the  mouth.  Clare 
liked  the  face  ;  she  liked  him  for  taking  no  notice  of  the 
allusion  to  herself.  How  dare  these  men  pity  her  ! 

Micklethwaite  went  on  : 

"  It  beats  me  how  a  lady  brought  up  in  England  can  go 
on  leading  the  life  she  does.  And  how  a  man  can  stand  by 
and  see  his  wife  roughing  it  in  such  a  God -forsaken  hole, 
knowing  that  he  had  brought  her  from  luxury  to — that, 
and  not  want  to  cut  his  throat  or  go  on  his  knees  and  beg 
her  pardon,  is  more  than  I  can  understand." 

Still  Dr.  Geneste  said  nothing. 

"I  call  it  a  downright  sin,"  contined  Micklethwaite. 
"  And  when  he  is  a  little  '  on,'  he  isn't  decently  civil  to 
her.  I  saw  her  wince  the  night  I  was  there  ;  and  there 
was  a  butcher  at  the  table  who  ought  to  have  been  at  the 
huts  ;  and  her  husband  chaffing  and  cheapening  her  before 
him  in  his  rough  way.  By  Jove  !  if  I  had  a  wife  as  hand- 
some as  Mis.  Tregaskiss,  I'd  treat  her  like  a  queen,  and 
I'd  see  that  all  other  fellows  did  the  same.  Upon  my  soul ! 
I  pity  a  woman  under  those  conditions.  It's  enough  to 
make  her  hook  it  with  another  chap — only  there  isn't  any- 


68  MRS.   TREGASKISS. 

body  up  here  worth  her  while  to  hook  it  with.  What  do 
you  say,  doctor  ?  " 

"  That  I  prefer  not  to  bring  a  lady's  name  into  camp 
discussion."  Geneste's  tone  suggested  a  flint  giving  sparks. 
"  Thanks  !  "  He  stretched  over  for  the  firestick  which 
Micklethwaite  had  been  brandishing,  lighted  his  pipe, 
rose,  and  stepped  out  of  Clare's  sight. 

"  AVell,  that's  a  facer,"  murmured  Micklethwaite  to  him- 
self ;  "  but  I'm  hanged  if  I  didn't  deserve  it."  And  lie 
got  up  uncomfortably,  and  went  over  to  Avhere  the  black 
boys  were  playing. 

The  stockman,  who  had  kneaded  his  dough  into  a  cake, 
whistled,  and  shifted  the  blazing  logs  apart,  leaving  a  glow- 
ing bed,  in  which  he  scooped  a  hollow,  placing  the  dough 
therein,  and  covering  it  carefully  with  ashes. 

"  Here,  one  of  you  fellows  !  I'm  going  to  round  up  the 
horses.  Look  after  the  fire  for  me,"  he  called  out.  "  The 
damper  is  in  the  ashes." 

"  And  damn-poor  it  will  be  when  it  comes  out,"  said 
one  of  the  other  men,  making  the  regulation  camp  joke. 

Clare,  hot  and  trembling  with  indignation,  had  drawn 
back  against  the  gum  tree.  She  hated  Micklethwaite — 
unreasonably,  perhaps.  At  the  moment  she  hated  her  hus- 
band, with  greater  justification.  It  was  he,  she  told  her- 
self, who  had  subjected  her  to  this  humiliation.  At  least 
Dr.  Geneste  wras  a  gentleman.  This  was  the  most  coherent 
thought  that  framed  itself.  She  got  np,  and  ran  as  swiftly 
and  quietly  as  she  could  away  from  the  gum  clump  and 
down  toward  the  river  bed.  Tears  blinded  her.  She  ran 
till  she  was  out  of  hearing  of  the  men's  laughter  and  the 
black  boys'  voices  calling  over  their  game.  Then  she  stood 
still,  and  stretched  out  her  arms  in  a  tragic  gesture  that 
was  a  I'evelation  of  the  pent  force  of  passion  in  her.  A 
revelation,  indeed,  to  the  man  who  had  been  impressed  by 
her  stoic  resignation  that  afternoon,  and  who  could  not 
have  imagined  it  possible  for  her  face  to  be  transformed 


HOW  LONG!  HOW  LONG!  69 

as  the  moonlight  now  showed  it.  Geneste  was  close  to 
her,  but  she  did  not  see  him. 

It  seemed  natural  that  her  emotion  should  express  itself 
in  Biblical  phrase. 

"  How  long,  oh,  my  God,  how  long  ! "  she  said,  almost 
in  a  whisper,  but  so  clearly  and  with  such  intensity  of 
emotion  that  each  syllable  fell  sharply  upon  his  ears 
through  the  howling  of  the  dingoes  in  the  scrub.  She 
looked  up  with  great  despairing  eyes  to  the  star-studded 
space  above,  and  then  out  upon  the  vast  lonely  bush  showing 
where  the  belt  of  scrub  broke,  a  vista  of  desolate  plain. 
The  world  seemed  open  to  her,  and  she  might  escape  now, 
this  very  night,  unchecked,  with  pitying  nature's  mantle 
spread  out  to  hide  her  from  pursuit.  Practically,  she  was  as 
free  as  the  kangaroo  or  the  wild  dog.  And  yet — yet  she 
stood,  a  wretched  human,  chained  by  moral  responsibility, 
as  tightly  as  though  her  limbs  were  bound  with  iron. 

"  How  long !  how  long  ! "  she  repeated,  this  time 
louder.  The  expression  of  her  face  spoke  the  answer  to 
her  question  ;  that  despairing  formula,  "Till  death  us  do 
part."  Instinctively,  Geneste  felt  that  this  was  the 
thought  which  shaped  itself  on  her  lips.  He  had  never 
heard  it  suggested,  until  Micklethwaite  made  his  careless 
remark,  that  her  marriage  was  not  a  happy  one  ;  but  he 
knew  now,  as  surely  as  if  she  had  laid  bare  her  inner  life 
to  him,  that  she  was  miserably  mated. 

Her  arms  had  dropped  to  her  side,  and  her  form,  momen- 
tarily expanded  in  her  passion,  collapsed.  The  turning 
inward,  as  it  were,  of  that  wild,  outward  gaze, — yearning, 
he  fancied,  for  the  breath  of  ocean  and  of  liberty, — seemed 
to  him  like  the  hopeless  glance  back  of  a  captive  from 
blue  sky,  glimpsed  through  a  prison  grating,  to  the  pallet 
bed  and  blank  walls  of  a  condemned  cell.  She  was  men- 
tally scanning  her  cell — the  tent,  not  quarter  of  a  mile  dis- 
tant, in  which  lay  her  sleeping  children. 

She  pulled   herself   together  and   moved   mechanically 


70  MRS.   TREGASKISS. 

homeward,  coming  down  toward  the  river  bed  and  to 
where  Geneste  was  standing  in  the  shadow  of  a  gum  tree. 
A  cattle  track  ran  along  the  creek  side,  bare  and  clear  in 
the  moonlight.  Across  it,  a  yard  from  her  feet,  lay  a  blunt 
brown  thing  like  a  bit  of  dead  wood  or  a  shred  of  bark. 
She  would  probably  have  trodden  upon  it,  had  not  a  voice 
called  out  sharply,  but  quite  steadily  : 

"  Step  back  !  It's  all  right — only  a  snake  in  front  of 
you." 

She  retreated  sideways,  and  with  a  great  start  found 
herself  almost  touching  Dr.  Geneste,  who  had  removed  his 
pipe  with  one  hand,  and  held  the  other  outstretched. 
Clare  laughed  hysterically,  a  weakness  unusual  with  her. 

"  Oh  !  it's — you  !  "  she  exclaimed. 

"  Yes.     Stop  a  moment ;  1  must  have  that  brute." 

He  looked  round,  and  picked  up  a  short  thick  stick,  witli 
which  he  struck  the  adder  a  blow  on  its  flat  head.  The 
reptile  was  sluggish,  as  is  its  way,  and  did  not  try  to 
escape.  After  a  moment  or  two  he  pronounced  that  it 
was  "  done  for." 

"  Lucky  it  was  on  the  track,  and  not  in  the  grass.  They 
make  for  clear  spaces.  You  ought  to  be  careful,  Mrs.  Tre- 
gaskiss.  The  Grave  has  got  a  regular  name  for  death 
adders,  and  snakes  are  pretty  spry  at  this  time  of  the  year. 
Did  I  startle  you  ?  You  are  trembling." 

"  Oh,  no  !  Thank  you  for  calling  out."  She  mastered 
herself,  and  spoke  evenly. 

"  Funny,  our  running  across  each  other  like  this.  Do 
you  often  take  midnight  strolls  ?  " 

"Sometimes,  when  I  can't  sleep,  I  go  and  sit  down  among 
the  gidia  trees  by  the  lagoon.  It  is  cool  there.  To-night 
in  the  tent  it  was  so  hot — and  the  mosquitoes,  and  the 
native  dogs.  Did  you  ever  hear  them  make  so  much 
noise  ?  " 

"  Yes,  often.  It  is  an  infernal  howling.  But  I  can't 
say  I  dislike  it.  It  had  a  sort  of  fascination  for  me  when 


HOW  LONG!  HOW  LONG!  VI 

I  first  began  camping  out.  There  was  something  barbaric 
and  unfettered  in  the  association  of  ideas.  One  couldn't 
have  a  stronger  contrast  to  the  London  night  noises  :  that 
awful  empty  roll  of  returning  carriages,  and  the  like — a 
kind  of  hollow  social  echo  of  the  preacher's  refrain  '  vanity 
of  vanities.' " 

He  had  talked  on,  mostly  in  the  nervous  effort  to  cover 
a  disagreeable  suggestion.  Had  she  heard  Micklethwaite's 
tactless  comments  upon  her  supposed  matrimonial  in- 
felicity ? 

"  Oh  !  "  she  cried;  "  you  know  all  about  that,  too  ?  " 

"  Too  ? "  he  repeated.  "  So  you,  as  well  as  I,  have 
revolted  from  civilisation?" 

"  If  you  call  it  revolting " 

"  To  marry  an  Australian  squatter  and  come  to  the 
Never-Never  country.  Are  you  happy  here  on  the  Leura, 
Mrs.  Tregaskiss  ?  " 

The  moment  he  spoke  he  repented  the  question  which 
had  escaped  him  out  of  the  perverse  working  of  things,  as 
one  laughs  on  solemn  occasions  from  the  sheer  strain  of 
enforced  decorum,  and  which  seemed  an  ironic  allusion  to 
the  despairing  abandonment  he  had  witnessed. 

He  fancied  in  the  moonlight  that  she  reddened. 

"  Happy  ! "  she  repeated,  with  an  involuntarily  bitter 
emphasis.  Her  tone  was  that  of  roused  resentment,  and 
she  turned  on  him  eyes  that  flashed.  The  mild  moon  rays 
revealed  the  flash. 

"I  beg  your  pardon,"  he  said,  involuntarily  also.  "I 

know  what  you  are  thinking,  but  I  assure  you It 

wasn't  out  of  impertinent  curiosity  that  I  said  what  I  did." 

"  No — I  understand  how  it  came  out.  One  says  things 
like  that,  and  then  one  feels  directly  afterward  that  they 

were  tactless.  I  winced  because Oh,  I  dare  say  you 

understand  too.  Of  course  when  I  cried  out  in  that  stupid 
way,  I  had  no  idea  that  you  were  close  to  me." 

"  I  am  very  sorry.     I  had  strolled  away  from  the  camp. 


72  MRS.   TREGASKISS. 

I  wanted  to  look  at  the  mob.  Yes,  I  know  ;  I  saw  you, 
and  your  expression  arrested — moved  rne  infinitely." 

She  made  a  gesture  as  if  to  deprecate  his  pity.  "I  owe 
you  thanks.  You  at  any  rate  acted  like  a  gentleman.  I 
am  much  obliged  to  you  for  not  allowing  me  to  be  dis- 
cussed by — your  stockmen." 

"  Micklethwaite  spoke  thoughtlessly.  Pie  is  rather  a 
cad  in  some  of  his  notions,  and  wants  to  be  pulled  up  now 
and  then." 

"  Oh,  I  remember  when  he  came  over  to  Mount  Wombo. 
He  took  pains  to  impress  upon  me  that  he  had  an  extended 
knowledge  of  English  society.  But  like  a  good  many  of 
the  Englishmen  who  come  West,. he  forgets  the  English 
code  of  manners,  and  does  not  adopt  the  Australian 
one." 

"  You  are  severe,  Mrs.  Tregaskiss." 

"  It  is  because  I  have  suffered — from — from  a  want  of 
chivalry  in  a  certain  class  of  our  visitors." 

There  was  a  slight  pause.     She  broke  it  suddenly. 

"  What  made  you  revolt  from  civilisation  ?  " 

"  Two  things.  One  I  will  tell  you  about, — if  you  would 
care  to  hear, — perhaps,  some  day  when  we  know  each  other 
better  ;  the  other  was  only  break  down  of  health.  I  was 
threatened  with  consumption  if  I  did  not  live  in  a  warm, 
dry  climate." 

"That  you  certainly  have  on  the  Leura.  But  you  look 
very  well  now." 

"  I  got  perfectly  well  in  less  than  two  years.  But  by 
that  time  the  passion  for  exploring  had  got  hold  of  me. 
It's  as  bad  as  the  gold  fever." 

"  I  have  never  explored  anything,"  she  said  impetuously, 
"except" —  and  she  hesitated  and  laughed — "  except  two 
phases  of  life  and  a  few  illusions." 

"  The  two  phases  of  life  are  the  English  and  Australian, 
aren't  they.  I  suppose  you  have  explored  them  both 
pretty  thoroughly  ?  " 


HOW  LONG!  HOW  LONG!  V3 

"  I  have  gone  as  far  as  circumstances  have  taken  me, 
and  that  isn't  a  great  distance." 

"  Far  enough,  anyhow.  It  seems  to  have  made  you  a  bit 
of  a  cynic.  Mrs.  Tregaskiss,  you  are  too  young  to  have 
got  to  the  other  side  of  your  illusions." 

"  I  am  not  at  all  young.  I  am  at  the  beginning  of  mid- 
dle age." 

Pie  laughed.  "  Middle  age  has  its  illusions,  too,  and,  since 
you  are  beginning  it,  you  should  be  in  the  flush  of  its  joys." 

"  What  sort  of  joys  and  illusions  has  middle  age  ?  "  she 
said  indifferently. 

"  I  think,  before  I  try  to  fix  them,  I'll  ask  you  what  are 
the  joys  and  illusions  you  give  the  season  of  youth." 

"  I  said  nothing  about  joys.  But,  oh,  yes — enthusiasm 
is  a  joy,  I  suppose,"  she  answered. 

"  Enthusiasm  ?     First  love,  and  that  sort  of  thing  ?  " 

"  I  wasn't  thinking  of  love  at  all,  though  I  have  no 
doubt  some  girls  take  flirtation  as  a  serious  enjoyment.  I 
was  thinking  of  real  enthusiasms — those  were  my  illusions; 
about  books  and  art  and  people — people  outside  the  flirt- 
ing category*  Girls  are  not  in  a  position  to  know  what 
love  means." 

"  Do  you  know,  I  wonder?  "he  mentally  interpolated. 
And  then  he  thought  of  a  girl  who  came  into  his  mind  not 
seldom  at  this  time,  and  exclaimed,  with  a  curious  frank- 
ness : 

"  I  think  I  could  guess  at  one  girl  who  would  know 
when  the  real  thing  came.  But  the  real  thing  is  slow 
about  coming  along,  as  a  general  rule,  I  fancy." 

Mrs.  Tregaskiss  made  no  comment  on  the  interruption, 
but  went  on  in  her  deliberate,  plaintively  modulated  voice  : 

"  And  there's  the  grand  sort  of  hope  and  belief  one 
starts  with,  and  the  expectation  one  has  that  the  world  is 
there  to  be  twisted  and  kneaded  into  the  shape  one  wishes, 
as  if  it  were  a  bit  of  dough." 

"  Now,  I'm  glad  I  asked  you  to  place  things,"  he  said. 


74  MRS.   TREGASKISS. 

"  I  should  have  put  them  differently.  I  should  have  said 
that  first  love  was  the  illusion  of  youth,  and  art  and  books 
the  reality  of  middle  age." 

"  Perhaps  that  is  true.  But  art  may  begin  in  illusion, 
may  it  not  ?  I  was  thinking  of  Gladys  Hilditch." 

"  Gladys  Hilditch  ?  " 

"  Oh,  a  friend  of  mine  !  a  girl  who  is  married  now  ;  one 
of  the  artist  set.  Whom  were  you  thinking  of  ? — the  other 
girl,  I  mean,  who  would  know  '  the  real  thing '  when  it 
came  along?" 

o 

"Of  Miss  Helen  Cusack,"  he  answered. 

"You  think  she  is  so  real  in  herself  that  she  would 
know  ?  " 

"  I  think  she  is  very  real  and  simple  and  sincere." 

"  Ah  !  I  understand.  You  mean  that  she  is  not  com- 
plex, that  she  would  accept  without  analysing,  and  that 
when  she  had  once  accepted  a  feeling  as  real,  she  would  be 
true  to  it  ?  " 

"  You  express  my  thought  exactly." 

"  I  shall  be  more  interested  now  in  Helen  Cusack,"  said 
Mrs.  Tregaskiss  reflectively.  "  I  looked  upon  her  as  a 
child.  I  see  that  you  look  upon  her  as  a  woman." 

Again  there  was  a  short  pause.  Then  Mrs.  Tregaskiss 
resumed  : 

"  There  is  no  art,  and  there  are  very  few  books,  on  the 
Leura." 

"  I  have  a  great  many  books  at  Darra-Darra." 

"  Have  you?"     She  spoke  with  some  eagerness. 

"  Perhaps  you'll  come  over  and  have  a  look  some  day. 
I  have  lined  a  room  witli  them.  Ramm  couldn't  under- 
stand how  anyone  could  want  a  bullock-dray  load  of  books. 
If  they  had  been  kegs  of  rum  he  would  have  appreciated 
the  necessitj7." 

"  That  is  quite  certain."  Once  more,  he  knew  by  her 
tone  that  he  had  touched  a  raw  spot.  "  Don't  the  white 
ants  eat  your  books?  At  Mount  Wombo  they  devour  every- 


HOW  LONG  !  HOW  LONG  !  75 

thing."  They  crawl  up  the  walls  and  eat  the  brackets  and 
picture  frames  ;  they  build  nests  in  the  storeroom,  and  eat 
into  the  flour,  and  they  scoop  out  the  rafters,  and  make 
holes  in  the  cradle ;  and  I  shall  dream  that  they  are  eating 
baby." 

"  Oh,  come,  Mrs.  Tregaskiss,  that's  partly  the  fault  of 
your  station  hands  ;  they  should  keep  the  posts  and  slabs 
fresh  tarred.  But  I  can  crow  over  some  of  your  Leura 
bosses,  for  I've  built  myself  two  stone  rooms,  and  my 
books  are  in  one  of  them.  That's  your  camp,  I  suppose." 

They  had  come  within  sight  of  the  fires,  in  the  smoke  of 
which  Tregaskiss  and  the  black  boys  slumbered.  Clare 
seemed  to  hear  her  husband  snore.  There  was  a  faint 
tinkle  of  horse-bells,  too,  and  of  gentle  browsing,  audible 
in  a  lull  of  the  dingoes'  howl.  The  errant  Priarn  and  his 
mates  had  been  driven  by  the  mosquitoes  into  the  circle  of 
smoke.  Clare's  children  were  sleeping.  All  was  silence  in 
the  tent.  She  started  guiltily. 

"  I  had  forgotten  my  baby,"  she  said,  turning  to  Geneste 
and  holding  out  her  hand.  "  My  husband  is  asleep,  and 
you  must  want  to  get  back  to  your  camp  and  to  go  to 
sleep,  too,  or  I  would  ask  you  to  come  and  make  his 
acquaintance." 

"  I  can't  do  anything  for  you  ?  No,  I  am  not  sleepy. 
But  I  have  to  make  a  very  early  start  to-morrow." 

"  It  must  be  late — a  strange  hour,  isn't  it,  for  me  to  be 
wandering  ?  " 

"  Strange  ?  yes,"  he  assented  absently.  "  I  think  every- 
thing in  life  is  strange  ;  but  the  strangest  thing  which 
strikes  me  just  now  is  that,  though  I  took  the  liberty  of 
doctoring  you  yesterday,  I  have  not  asked  how  my  reme- 
dies succeeded.  Did  the  drops  do  ?  " 

"  Oh,  very  well,  thank  you  !  They  pulled  me  together 
to-day  when  I  was  beginning  to  feel  faint  and  things  were 
growing  black.  But,  never  mind  about  that.  It  isn't  that 

which  matters." 
6 


76  MRS.   TREGASKISS. 

"  What  is  it  that  matters,  then  ?  Tell  me,  Mrs.  Tregas- 
kiss.  I  wish  I  could  help  you  ! " 

Something  of  the  tragic  passion  he  had  surprised  a  little 
while  before  showed  itself  in  the  look  she  gave  him.  The 
look  was  searching,  and  had  a  pained  hesitancy,  yet  she 
spoke  almost  with  recklessness  : 

"  It  matters  that  I  let  you  see  my  weakness.  Yes,  you 
can  help  me — this  way.  Don't  betray  me." 

"  Good  Heavens  !  "  he  exclaimed  angrily.  "  What  do 
you  take  me  for  ?  " 

"  For  a  man,  like  all  other  men.  I  don't  know  you, 
remember.  You  may  be  engaged  to  Helen  Cusack  ;  if  not 
now,  you  will  be,  perhaps,  by  and  by.  I  know  how  men 
talk  to  girls  they  are  going  to  marry,  especially  about 
some  older  woman  in  whom  the  girl  is  interested.  It 
Would  be  natural  enough  that  you  should  discuss  me 
together,  and  that  you  should  speak  to  her  about  what 
you  have  seen.  I  have  this  great  favour  to  ask  you,  and  I 
am  paying  a  compliment  in  asking  it — don't  do  so.  In- 
stead, forget  it." 

"  What  do  you  take  me  for  ?  "  he  said  again.  "  Do  you 
class  me  with  Micklethwaite  ?  " 

"No,  no!  But,  oh!  stop  people  when  they  begin  to 
say  the  things  he  said.  You  don't  know  how  it  galls  my 
pride  to  think  of  it  !  And  then,  for  one's  neighbours — for 
the  Cusacks — to  know,  to  pity  one,  perhaps  !  Besides,  Dr. 
Geneste,  it  is  not  true.  I  am  quite  happy;  I  am  perfectly 
contented."  She  flung  out  the  assertion  defiantly.  "  My 
life  may  be  rough  and  dull  to  outsiders,  but  I  chose  it  of 
my  own  free  will.  More,  even,  I  chose  it  thankfully." 

"  You  are  a  very  loyal  woman,  Mrs.  Tregaskiss,  and  I 
respect  you.  That's  answer  enough,  isn't  it,  to  what  you 
ask  ?  " 

"  I  have  something  more  to  tell  you.  Do  you  know 
that,  when  I  was  disgraced  and  deserted  by  my  friends 
and  by  the  man  who  wanted  to  marry  me,  he  was  true — 


HOW  LONG  !  HOW  LONG  !  77 

Keith  Tregaskiss  ?  He  didn't  run  away  from  ine  ;  be 
came  forward  and  offered  me  everything  that  he  had  to 
offer." 

"  I  did  not  know,"  he  stammered.  "  I  know  nothing  of 
your  history,  except " 

"  Except  that  I  was  Clare  Gardyne, — that's  enough  to 
make  it  all  clear, — and  that  now  I  am  Clare  Tregaskiss.  I 
bear  my  husband's  name  with  gratitude — yes,  gratitude. 
You  would  be  quite  mistaken  if  you  imagined,  from  what 
you  saw  to-night,  that  I  am  unhappy." 

"  No,  no  !  "  he  exclaimed.  "  Think  me  as  impertinent 
as  you  like  for  saying  it :  you  challenged  me,  remember. 
No,  you  may  tell  me  as  many  loyal  lies  as  you  think 
proper,  Mrs.  Tregaskiss,  but  you'll  never  make  me  believe 
that  you  are  a  happy  woman  ! " 

The  man's  matter  of  fact  sincerity  dashed  down  her 
weapons  and  forced  her  to  a  reactionary  candour. 

"  It's  true.  Sometimes  I  think  that  I  am  the  most  mor- 
bidly miserable  woman  on  earth.  But  I  don't  give  way  to 
it.  To-night  I  couldn't  help  crying  out.  I  was  choking  ; 
I  was  stifled  ;  I  was  being — killed,  by  the  awful  dense 
materialism  of  everything.  I  want  sympathy  ;  I  want 
soul,  spirit,  intellect  to  come  and  surround  me,  and  breathe 
a  breath  of  real  life  into  me.  And  there's  nothing — noth- 
ing but  coarse,  cruel  flesh  and  blood  ;  beef  and  mutton  ; 
parched,  barren  ground.  Earth — earth !  fit  only  to  bury 
a  corpse  in.  Nothing  but  everlasting  gum  tree  ;  everlast- 
ing gibia  scrub  ;  everlasting  dry  plain."  She  stretched  out 
her  hands  to  the  forest  and  the  distant  level  which  touched 
the  sky.  "It's  awful,  isn't  it?  It's  horrible — so  big,  so 
lonely,  and  so — dead '1 '" 

She  stopped  and  stared  at  him  like  a  trapped  thing  ;  and 
then  gave  herself  a  little  shake.  "  Good  gracious  !  what 
makes  me  talk  like  this  !  You  must  think  me  mad  ! " 

"  Dear  lady,  I  think  you  are  tired  and  overstrained,  and 
the  Leura  has  got  on  your  nerves ;  and  your  little  out- 


78  MRS.   TREGASKISS. 

burst  is  as  natural — and  as  necessary — as  the  escape  of  com- 
pressed steam.  You'll  be  all  the  better  for  it.  As  far  as  I 
go,  you  must  recollect  that  I'm  a  physician,  and  if  I  don't 
understand  something  about  women's  nerves,  I  had  no 
business  to  go  in  as  specialist  for  nervous  disorders.  Per- 
haps thinking  of  that  will  give  you  a  little  more  confidence 
in  my  sympathy,  as  well  as  in  my  discretion." 

"  Yes,  thank  you,"  she  answered  abruptly,  quite  recalled 
to  herself.  "  Good-night,  Dr.  Geneste  ! " 

"  We  shall  probably  fall  in  with  each  other  on  the  road 
to-morrow,"  he  said,  "  as  we  are  both  bound  in  the  same 
direction.  If  not,  please  convey  my  regrets  to  Mr.  Tregas- 
kiss,  and  allow  me  to  look  forward  to  a  meeting  at  Mount 
Wombo." 

"Yes  ;  he  will  be  sony. 

"  Good-night,  then  ! " 

He  lifted  his  hat  and  moved  a  step  or  two,  then  came 
back. 

"  There's  something  I  should  like  to  say,  Mrs.  Tregaskiss. 
I  will  never  repeat  to  living  soul  what  you  have  said 
to-night.  And — I  have  not  the  honour  of  being  engaged 
to  Miss  Helen  Cusack." 


CHAPTER  VII. 

THE    CUSACKS. 

ME.  TEEGASKISS  and  his  wife  did  not,  upon  their  next 
day's  journey,  fall  in  with  Dr.  Geneste,  He  started  at  day- 
break, and  Tregaskiss  two  or  three  hours  later.  The  black 
boys,  in  getting  up  the  horses,  of  course  at  once  discovered 
their  neighbours  of  the  night ;  and  Clare  was  not  yet  awake 
from  a  dull  sleep  when  they  came  back  and  informed  their 
master.  Tregaskiss  hurried  off  to  look  at  the  mob  of  "  fats," 
and  lost  some  time  in  discussing  bovine  matters  and  Leura 
gossip  with  Micklethwaite  over  a  pannikin  of  tea  which  had 
in  it  more  than  a  dash  of  cognac.  Micklethwaite  came  up 
to  the  buggy  camp,  in  shirt-sleeves  and  soiled  moleskins,  to 
pay  his  respects,  as  he  stated,  to  Mrs.  Tregaskiss  and  the 
new  baby.  He  was  disposed  to  be  a  little  free  and  easy 
after  his  early  stimulant,  though  it  must  be  owned  in 
justice  that  this  was  not  a  frequent  indulgence,  and  Tregas- 
kiss scolded  his  wife  afterward  for  being  stand-off,  and  for 
keeping  visitors  away  from  Mount  Wombo  by  "  confounded 
dignity." 

There  was  another  day's  drive  which  seemed  intermin- 
able ;  and  the  baby  fretted  and  moaned  with  prickly  heat, 
and  Ning  was  cross,  and  Tregaskiss  swore.  On  and  on, 
across  the  dreary  plains,  under  scorching  sun,  the  only 
relief  a  belt  of  scrub  ;  the  only  life,  but  their  own,  a  road 
party,  a  shepherd,  and  a  man  who  looked  dazed  and 
answered  Tregaskiss'  greeting  with  a  stupid  laugh.  He 
had  "  gone  silly  "  from  sunstroke  and  was  left  in  charge  of 
a  surveyors'  camp.  Then  night  under  the  stars,  and  water 
getting  low  in  the  canvas  bags,  so  that  the  children 


80  MRS.   TREGASKISS. 

could  not  have  a  bath  ;  and  on  again  the  next  morning, 
till  toward  sundown  Brinda  Plains  station  came  in  sight. 

The  station — as  the  seat  of  the  workings  was  called,  in 
contradistinction  to  "  The  House,"  where  the  Cusacks 
lived — was,  as  is  the  case  on  many  large  sheep  properties, 
a  village  in  itself,  with  its  great  woolshed,  its  store  and 
post  office  and  bachelor's  quarters,  the  men's  huts,  and 
cottages  of  the  storekeeper  and  accountant.  Then  came 
a  fence  with  big  white  gates, — Brinda  Plains  was  the  best 
gated  station  in  the  district, — and  beyond  the  gates,  The 
House,  an  oasis  of  comfort  and  luxuriant  verdure  in  the 
midst  of  the  brown  plain,  which  was  like  the  sea,  having 
island-clumps  of  trees  dotted  about,  and  lily-covered  water- 
hole,  making  another  spot  of  bright  green  ;  and  a  long,  low, 
dull  green  line  in  the  near  distance  marking  the  creek. 
The  house  was  low  and  rambling,  mostly  of  stone,  and 
there  were  great  wide  verandas,  and  many  outbuildings, 
some  of  which  had  bough  shades,  while  others  were  con- 
nected with  the  main  structure  by  gangways,  covered  with 
native  convolvulus  and  wild  cucumber.  There  was  a 
beautiful  garden,  which  had  water  laid  on  from  the  water- 
holes,  so  that  the  half-tropical  shrubs  were  green  and  the 
flower  beds  gay.  Clumps  of  bamboos  looked  like  tufts  of 
upright  feathers.  A  bohinia  tree,  with  its  large  pink 
flowers,  resembled  a  gigantic  azalea  shrub  in  bloom  ;  and  an 
emu  apple  showed  a  waning  glory  of  great  white  blossoms. 
The  coral  plant  was  putting  forth  its  green  and  giving 
out  only  points  of  red,  and  the  tecoma  tree  showed  branches 
of  brilliant  orange  bells.  There  were  flowers  of  all  kinds, 
many  fruit  trees,  and  shady  grape-trellised  walks.  It  was 
a  beautiful  garden,  and  Clare  thought  regretfully  of  her 
own  less  luxuriant  plot,  and  wished  that  they  too  had 
windmill-pumps  and  a  staff  of  gardeners.  As  the  buggy 
drove  past,  a  set  of  tennis  players  dropped  their  game  and 
looked  out  from  between  the  pepper  trees  to  see  who  was 
coming.  The  Chinese  cook  put  his  white-capped  head  out 


THE  CUSACKS.  81 

of  his  window.  Mrs.  Cusack,  who  was  sitting  in  the 
veranda,  her  basket  of  mendings  beside  her,  talking  to  a 
delicate-looking  young  woman  wrapped  in  a  "cloud," 
looked  up  too,  and  hurried  round  to  the  gangway  at  the 
back  to  receive  her  guests.  All  Australian  houses  are 
approached  from  the  back.  She  was  standing  there  as 
Clare  got  down,  a  portly,  good-looking  woman,  with  a 
fussy  kindliness  of  manner  and  a  gush  of  greetings. 

"  Oh,  Mrs.  Tregaskiss  !  And  aren't  you  just  dead  with 
the  heat  ?  And  camping  out,  too  !  Dr.  Geneste  told  us. 
Come  right  in  and  you'll  have  some  port  wine  before  you 
speak  a  word.  And  so  this  is  the  new  baby  !  Poor  little 
chappie — prickly  heat,  eh  !  Oh,  it's  a  girl,  is  it,  Mr.  Tre- 
gaskiss ?  Well,  I  don't  know  that  girls  aren't  better  than 
boys  in  Australia,  and  easier  put  out  in  the  world,  and  if 
they  were  all  only  as  good  to  their  mother  as  my  Helen  ! 
Helen,  come  along  quick  and  see  Mrs.  Tregaskiss.  You  are 
Helen's  admiration,  my  dear.  She  is  always  talking  about 
you.  Will,  here's  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Tregaskiss.  Call  some- 
one to  see  to  the  horses,  and  you  take  Mr.  Tregaskiss  in 
charge  while  we  look  after  the  chicks." 

Mr.  Cusack,  in  a  white  linen  suit,  a  newspaper  in  his 
hand,  carne  round  the  veranda  corner.  He  was  a  big,  red- 
faced  man,  pompous  in  manner,  a  brag  and  a  bully. 

"  How  are  you,  Tregaskiss  ?  These  horses  of  yours  look 
pretty  well  done  up.  Congratulate  you  on  the  new  baby, 
Mrs.  Tregaskiss.  But  you  don't  seem  the  thing  exactly. 
Too  much  roughing  it,  I  should  say.  If  my  wife  was  in 
your  shoes  she'd  jib,  wouldn't  you,  Kitty  ?  " 

Clare  made  a  faint  disclaimer.  She  was  too  tired  to  be 
resentful. 

"  Oh,  I  know  what  roughing  it  means,"  cried  Mrs. 
Cusack  ;  "and  I've  had  plenty  of  it  in  my  time,  and  never 
made  so  little  fuss  over  it  as  Mrs.  Tregaskiss.  I  always 
just  quote  your  wife  as  a  model,  Mi\  Tregaskiss, — so  cheer- 
ful and  contented.  If  only  all  bush  wives  were  like  her,  as 


82  MRS.   TREGASKISS. 

I  say  to  my  Helen.  And  it  isn't  as  if  she  hadn't  lived  in 
England,  and  didn't  know  what  good  society  is  !  " 

At  that  moment  Helen  Cusack  appeared.  She  ran  up  to 
Clare  with  both  hands  outstretched,  and  yet  something  of 
awe  in  her  greeting.  Her  mother  was  right ;  she  admired 
Mrs.  Tregaskiss  immensely.  There  was  none  in  the  world 
of  women,  or  books,  so  suggestive  of  thrilling  romance. 
The  women  in  books  were  not  alive,  and  Mrs.  Tregaskiss 
not  only  lived,  but  gained  in  dramatic  interest  from  the 
contrast  she  presented  to  her  surroundings.  Helen  was  her- 
self quite  an  embodiment  of  youthful  romance,  but  of  this 
she  was  unconscious.  She  was  a  shy,  sweet,  simple-minded 
creature,  with  a  force  of  character  not  apparent  on  the  sur- 
face, and  a  tendency  to  idealism  hardly  compatible  with  a 
distinctly  practical  side  of  her  nature.  She  was  excessively 
pretty,  of  a  gum  sapling  slenderness  and  extreme  delicacy 
of  complexion, — Mrs.  Cusack  had  never  allowed  her  daugh- 
ters to  go  out  without  gauze  veils, — deep,  clear  blue  eyes, 
and  brown  hair  that  had  a  wave  in  it  and  was  parted  in  the 
middle.  She  was  clever  too,  and  talked  with  the  bright- 
ness and  ready  adaptability  of  the  tj'pical  Australian  girl  ; 
and  if  Mrs.  Cusack  had  a  trace  of  snobbism,  her  daughter 
was  the  most  perfect  little  lady  which  it  was  possible  for 
nature  to  produce.  Clare  looked  at  her  with  a  quickened 
interest.  An  impulse,  for  which  she  could  not  account, 
made  her  bend  forward  and  kiss  the  young  girl.  "  Oh, 
was  I  ever  young  and  trustful  and  happy  like  that  ?"  she 
thought ;  "  and  what  will  she  be  like  when  she  marries  and 
has  children  ?  "  And  then  the  next  thought  :  "  I  wonder 
if  she  will  marry  Dr.  Geneste?  "  ' 

Mr.  Cusack  made  Ning  indignant  by  flicking  her  cheek, 
and  asking  after  her  friends,  the  blacks.  A  golden-haired 
child,  two  years  older  than  the  Pickaninny,  came  and  took 
her  away.  Helen  and  her  mother  fussed  over  Mrs.  Tregas- 
kiss, and  Helen  ran  for  the  port  wine. 

"  Take  Mrs.  Tregaskiss'  hat,  Minnie.     You  have  got  thin, 


THE  CUSACKS.  83 

my  dear ;  but  never  mind,  you  must  eat  a  lot  while  you 
are  spelling  here.  That's  the  best  remedy — heaps  to  eat, 
and  a  happy  mind.  Now  come  to  your  room  and  put 
on  a  cool  gown,  and  then  we'll  have  a  quiet  chat  about 
baby." 

"  Any  whiskey  out,  Kitty  ?  "  said  Mr.  Cusack.  "  Come 
along,  Tregaskiss,  and  have  a  nip.  The  groom  will  look 
after  the  things." 

They  took  Clare  into  a  cool,  stone  bedroom.  Helen  gave 
her  the  port  wine.  Minnie,  another  golden-haired  one, 
brought  in  tea  ;  and  a  third  blue-eyed  creature  a  bunch 
of  roses.  Presently  the  Cusack's  nurse  took  possession  of 
the  baby;  and  Ning  was  escorted  to  the  bathroom,  and 
thence  to  the  children's  quarters,  and  was  told  that  she 
must  on  no  account  bother  her  mother  till  bedtime. 

Clare  lay  and  dozed.  By  and  by  Tregaskiss  came  in. 
He  was  cross  ;  his  self-esteem  had  been  wounded,  and  the 
signs  of  prosperity  at  Brinda  Plains  irritated  him.  He  de- 
clared that  Cusack's  brag  was  insufferable,  and  that  if 
Clare  had  not  been  so  "  done  up,"  and  the  horses  so  much 
in  need  of  a  spell,  he  would  start  off  on  the  morrow.  His 
grumblings  sounded  above  the  noise  of  his  splashings  as  he 
washed  off  the  journey's  grime.  So  also  did  those  of  two 
young  ladies  in  a  veranda  room  on  the  other  side,  who 
were  quarrelling  over  a  pair  of  curling  tongs,  and  complain- 
ing that  it  was  a  downright  shame  to  ask  girls  over  from 
Ilgandah,  and  not  warn  them  that  there'd  be  "  dressing 
for  dinner." 

The  bell  clanged.  Helen  Cusack  tapped  and  entered  in 
response  to  Mrs.  Tregaskiss'  "  Come  in."  She  was  already 
dressed,  and  looked  fresh  and  fair  in  her  white  gown. 
With  all  her  girlish  simplicity,  she  had  a  certain  serious- 
ness of  aspect  which,  combined  with  the  purity  of  her 
limpid  eyes  and  the  virginal  curves  of  her  face  and  form, 
gave  her  something  of  the  Madonna  appearance.  She  wore 
an  artistic  trail  of  allamanda  blossoms,  and  carried  some 


84  MRS.   TREGASKISS. 

of  the  same  flowers  in  her  hand.  She  thought  that  perhaps 
Mrs.  Tregaskiss  might  like  allamandas  too,  better  than 
Totty's  roses,  which  were  droopy  things  ;  the  heat  had 
withered  them.  And  then  the  allamandas  would  go  so 
beautifully  with  Mrs.  Tregaskiss'  tawny  sort  of  dress. 
Wasn't  that  what  artists  would  call  a  harmony  in  brown 
and  yellow?  Hair  and  eyes  and  complexion  and  dress, 
and  that  odd,  old-fashioned  cross  Mrs.  Tregaskiss  always 
wore.  Oh,  it  had  been  her  mother's,  and  were  those  stones 
uncut  rubies  ? 

She,  Helen,  always  wondered  how  it  was  that  Mrs.  Tre- 
gaskiss' dresses,  and  Mrs.  Tregaskiss  herself,  seemed  as  if 
they  had  come  out  of  a  picture.  Oh,  it  must  be  delightful 
to  be  so — so  interesting-looking,  so  different  from  every 
other  person. 

"  I  am  not  so  interesting  as  you  yourself  are,"  said  Clare 
literally. 

"  Oh,  Mrs.  Tregaskiss  ! "  Helen  could  say  no  more. 
The  comparison  seemed  almost  sacrilegious.  The  elder 
woman  was  a  goddess  who  had  descended  to  the  Leura 
from  an  Olympian  sphere.  In  Helen's  imagination,  the 
distinction  between  London  society  and  society  in  Australia 
was  as  that  between  heaven  and  earth.  "  I  am  only  a 
stupid  bush  girl,"  she  said.  "  You  can't  call  me  interesting 
— in  the  sense  that  you  are  interesting." 

"  My  dear,  you  are  very  clever,  and  you  are  very  sweet 
and  very  pretty.  Isn't  that  being  interesting  ?  "  answered 
Clare.  "  You  are  ever  so  much  prettier  than  I  ever  was, 
when  I  was  young." 

"  Oh,  Mrs.  Tregaskiss  !  "  Helen  repeated  ;  "  that  is  non- 
sense, you  know.  Only  just  before  yon  came,  Dr.  Geneste 
said " 

She  stopped  abrupt!}',  abashed  by  the  sudden  dilating  of 
her  companion's  eyes  as  they  turned  upon  her.  And  some- 
thing which  had  not  occurred  to  her  before,  glanced 
through  her  mind  in  a  vaguely  disturbing  way — a  thought 


THE  CUSACKS.  85 

suggested  by  the  comparison  and  given  weight  by  Dr. 
Geneste's  words. 

"  Yes  ?  "  asked  Clare.     "  What  did  Dr.  Geneste  say  ?" 

"Oli,  perhaps  I  ought  not  to  repeat  it !  "  Helen  faltered. 
"  But  it  is  nothing  to  mind  about,  really.  He  said  that 
you  were  the  most  beautiful  woman  he  had  ever  known." 

"  That  is  very  kind  and  flattering.  Did  he  say  anything 
else  about  me  ?  " 

"  No.  How  could  he  ?  At  least,  he  told  me  that  he 
had  met  you  at  Cedar  Hill.  We  were  looking  on  at  the 
tennis  when  you  drove  up,  and  of  course  I  was  saying 
how  much  we  all  admired  you  ;  and  then  he  said  that  it 
must  be  a  trial  for  one  so  intellectual  and  so  highly  strung 
— I  think  those  were  his  words — to  lead  this  kind  of  life." 

Clare  blushed  and  turned  the  subject  with  a  laugh.  "If 
this  kind  of  life  means  being  taken  care  of  at  Brinda 
Plains,  my  dear,  it  it  very  much  to  my  liking.  And  am  I 
not  keeping  dinner  waiting  ?  You  were  quite  right  about 
the  allamandas  ;  they  go  much  better  with  my  dress." 

It  was  evident  that  Helen  Cusack  had  been  carrying  out 
in  the  drawing-room  some  Melbourne  ideas  of  decoration. 
Clare  remembered  it  as  a  comfortable,  but  inartistic  room, 
with  the  furniture  stiffly  arranged,  and  few  feminine  pretti- 
nesses.  Helen  had  pulled  out  the  piano  and  draped  it,  had 
improvised  screens,  and  pushed  back  the  round  table.  She 
had  laid  emu-mats  and  pelican  skins  upon  the  polished 
cedar  floor,  and  had  put  tall  green  things  in  pots  at  appro- 
priate angles.  The  room  looked  full  of  people  when  Mrs. 
Tregaskiss  entered.  There  was  the  party  of  Cusack  girls, 
of  whom  Helen  was  the  eldest  ;  and  their  governess,  Miss 
Lawford,  pretty,  and  given  to  flirtation  ;  and  just  now  at 
the  elbow  of  a  quiet,  consumptive-looking  young  man  with 
a  clever  face,  whose  bright  eyes  eagerly  followed  Helen 
Cusack's  every  movement.  Clare  had  heard  that  he  was 
in  love  Avith  Helen,  and  had  followed  her  up  from  Mel- 
bourne. Then  there  was  the  delicate  lady,  still  in  her 


86  MRS.   TREGASKISS. 

white  cloud,  who  had  a  sweet,  bright  face  and  laughed  a 
great  deal  ;  and  there  were  the  girls  without  evening 
dresses,  whom  Helen  had  told  Clare  were  the  Misses  Ocock, 
from  one  of  the  roughest  of  the  small  cattle-stations  near 
the  township  of  Ilgandah.  One  was  short  and  dark  and 
squarely  made,  with  a  determined,  rather  coarse  face  ;  the 
other  was  thin  and  weak,  and  had  prominent  light  eyes 
and  a  great  deal  of  teeth  and  gum.  Mrs.  Cusack  was  in- 
troducing an  exti'emely  awkward  bushrnan  to  the  deter- 
mined-looking one,  and  trying  to  soften  the  young  lady's 
discouraging  reception  of  his  uncouth  bow,  by  the  concilia- 
tory remark  : 

"  Oh,  dear,  no,  Miss  Ocock  !  You  mustn't  think  that 
Mr.  Wilmett  wanted  to  run  away  when  Mr.  Cusack  offered 
to  introduce  him  to  you  at  the  races.  I  am  sure  Mr. 
Wilmett  never  ran  away  from  a  pretty  girl.  Anyhow, 
you  must  wait  till  after  dinner,  and  give  him  a  dance, 
and  let  him  explain  himself.  We  always  dance  after  din- 
ner, Mrs.  Tregaskiss,  when  it  isn't  too  hot,  for  the  sake  of 
the  young  people  and  to  teach  the  boys — the  unbroken 
colts,  Mr.  Cusack  calls  them.  Here's  one  unbroken  colt. 
Martin,  come  and  shake  hands  with  Mrs.  Tregaskiss.  And 
there's  another  !  Harry,  make  your  bow.  Mrs.  Tregaskiss 
is  used  to  the  best  English  manners,  you  know.  Do  you 
hear  that,  Mr.  Blanchard  ?  You  ought  to  be  delighted. 
Mr.  Blanchard  is  our  last  new  chum,  and  he  hasn't  got 
used  yet  to  our  rough  ways.  But  we  mustn't  offend  him 
by  saying  he  is  a  new  chum.  lie  likes  best  being  called 
Bishop — Bishop  Blanchard.  That's  right,  isn't  it?" 

There  was  a  note  of  asperity  in  Mrs.  Cusack's  "  chaff," 
which,  for  some  reason  not  evident  on  the  surface, — for 
very  soon  Clare  discovered  that  he  received  with  indiffer- 
ence more  bludgeon-like  sarcasms, — seemed  to  hurt  the 
Englishman  keenly.  She  presently  told  herself  that  it 
must  be  because  his  appearance  gave  point  to  the  allusion, 
though  he  seemed  singularly  free  from  small  vanities.  He 


THE  CUSACKS.  87 

reminded  her  of  Dore's  Neophyte,  only  that  he  was 
very  much  older, — too  old,  she  thought,  to  be  acting  new 
chum, — and  altogether  of  much  more  decided  character 
and  personality  than  the  young  monk.  It  was  his  eyes 
which  had  the  same  expression,  and  his  face  was  of  the 
thin,  ascetic  type  which  suggests  martyrdom  for  the  sake  of 
a  conviction.  He  was  excessively  handsome,  and  peculiarly 
refined — the  refinement  of  far  too  subtle  a  nature  to  appeal 
to  the  Leura  folk,  who  frankly  owned  they  did  not  under- 
stand him,  and  accordingly  revenged  themselves  by  turn- 
ing him  into  a  butt  for  their  jokes.  Clare  came  to  the 
conclusion  that  he  was  a  man  with  a  stoiy.  She  learned 
later  that  he  had  only  been  a  very  short  time  at  Brinda 
Plains. 

She  saw  that  he  curbed  his  annoyance,  covering  it  with 
the  laughing  remark:  "Ah,  Mrs.  Cusack,  won't  you  be 
merciful  ?  You  shouldn't  always  bring  that  unfortunate 
episode  up  against  me." 

"  He  only  tried  to  reform  the  bullock-drivers,  Mrs. 
Tregaskiss ! "  called  out  Mr.  Cusack,  in  his  great,  self- 
satisfied  voice.  "  Reproved  them  for  swearing  ;  said  it 
wasn't  English.  Good  boy,  Blanchard  !  But  you'll  have 
to  begin  with  the  bosses  first, — eh,  Tregaskiss  ?  I  heard 
you  let  out  a  good  round  one  at  Tommy  George  a  few 
minutes  ago.  You'll  have  the  bishop  down  upon  you  if 
you  don't  take  care." 

At  Tregaskiss'  guffaw  "  the  bishop  "  retreated  into  the 
background  and  began  talking  to  one  of  the  other  new 
chums.  There  were  always  two  or  three  young  men  at 
Brinda  Plains  learning  colonial  experience,  and  contrib 
uting,  by  the  premium  they  paid,  to  Mr.  Cusack's  income. 
On  the  whole,  they  found  an  agreeable  home,  notwith- 
standing the  tendency  of  the  "  unbroken  colts  "  to  practi- 
cal joking,  and  the  snubbings  administered  by  the  heads 
of  the  establishment  on  show  of  any  airs  of  superiority. 
Mrs.  Cusack  was  kind-hearted,  if  a  little  dictatorial,  and, 


MRS.   TREGASKISS. 

moreover,  she  was  the  matchmaker  of  the  district,  and  in 
pursuing  this  mission  made  her  house  a  gay  social  centre. 

The  room  was  dim.  Australian  twilight  quickly  merges 
into  darkness,  and  the  shadow  of  a  stand  of  calladiums 
obscured  the  near  distance  ;  yet  Clare  had,  as  she  entered, 
the  flashing  consciousness  of  a  thin,  muscular  form,  a  fal- 
con face,  and  an  alert  glance  in  her  direction  ;  and  now 
that  Mr.  Blanchard  retired  into  the  background,  Geneste 
emerged  from  his  station  among  a  knot  of  men,  of  whom 
Tregaskiss  was  one,  who  were  collected  round  the  host. 

"  Dr.  Geneste  tells  me  he  met  you  at  Cedar  Hill,"  went 
on  Mrs.  Cusack.  She  rarely  for  a  moment  stopped  talk- 
ing. "  Seems  so  funny,  doesn't  it,  to  call  a  squatter  neigh- 
bour 'doctor'?  The  only  doctor  I've  known  well  on  the 
Leura  was  a  German  one,  who  used  to  recite  to  us  what  he 
called  *  The  Rah-ven,'  and  who  borrowed  fifty  pounds 
from  Will,  that  he  never  paid  back.  He  wasn't  a  doctor 
really — only  a  sort  of  school  one.  But  Dr.  Geneste  is 
everything.  One  knows  what  being  a  physician  in  good 
practice  in  London  means.  And  it's  such  a  comfort  in  the 
district,  and  his  being,  so  kind  about  looking  after  people, 
too  !  I  am  sure  our  storekeeper  would  have  died  if  it 
hadn't  been  for  you."  She  turned  to  Dr.  Geneste.  "  How 
have  you  found  him  this  afternoon  ?  " 

"Oh,  he's  getting  on  splendid!}',  Mrs.  Cusack  ;  and  I 
shan't  have  an  excuse  any  longer  for  riding  over  from 
Darra  and  getting  a  good  dinner  and  delightful  music." 

Geneste  shook  hands  with  Mrs.  Tregaskiss,  and  made  a 
commonplace  apology  for  having  pushed  on  before  the 
Tregaskiss  buggy.  "  You  see  I  got  an  early  start,  and  was 
here  two  hours  sooner  than  you.  I'm  glad  you  have  taken 
my  advice.  Your  husband  tells  me  you  mean  to  spell  a 
day  or  two." 

A  white-capped  maid,  who  was  Ning's  especial  admira- 
tion, announced  that  dinner  was  on  the  table. 

"  Will,  look  after  Mrs.  Tregaskiss  !  "  cried  the  hostess. 


THE  CUSA.CKS.  89 

"She's  our  guest  of  honour.  Ol),  no,  we  won't  go  arm  in 
arm  ;  that's  not  bush  -fashion.  Come  along  to  my  end, 
Mr.  Tregaskiss,  and  help  me  with  the  carving.  I  advise 
you  to  stick  to  Helen,  Dr.  Geneste.  She'll  see  that  the 
boys  don't  victimise  you." 

It  was  a  pleasant,  noisy  meal.  The  delicate  lady  on 
Mr.  Cusack's  other  side  chattered  with  a  vivacity  that  was 
only  checked  now  and  then  by  a  little  dry  cough,  which 
she  declared  was  a  crumb  gone  the  wrong  way.  Mrs. 
Cusack's  tongue  went  all  the  time,  keeping  her  end  of  the 
table  lively.  Miss  Ocock  had  melted  to  her  shy  escort,  and 
the  thin  girl  found  plenty  to  say  to  Mr.  Blanchard  in  the 
shape  of  "  chaff  "  about  his  English  fastidiousness.  "Was 
it  true  that  he  took  his  razors  with  him  when  he  went 
camping  out,  and  was  he  really  so  dreadfully  clever  and 
superior,  and  did  he  look  down  upon  all  Australians," 
etc.  ?  The  young  man  from  Melbourne  had  deserted  the 
governess  and  was  on  Helen's  left  hand,  and  Miss  Lawford 
had  consoled  herself  with  the  land  commissioner,  a  sedate 
and  stolid  person,  Avho  had  been  lately  left  a  widower,  and 
was,  report  said,  on  the  lookout  for  a  second  wife.  Miss 
Lawford  might  be  described  as  a  crude  Australian  edition 
of  Becky  Sharp  in  the  Jos  Sedley  epoch,  and  was  open 
to  the  offer  of  any  matrimonial  establishment  on  the  basis 
of  an  income  exceeding  two  hundred  a  year,  though  she 
continually  spoiled  her  chances  by  too  daring  flirtations. 
Mr.  Cusack  discoursed  upon  his  new  artesian  bore  and  the 
perfect  management. 

"  But  when  you've  got  to  do  with  a  big  place  like 
Tregaskiss',  with  your  thirty  thousand  sheep  to  shear,  it 
doesn't  do  not  to  have  everything  tip-top.  Of  course,  on 
a  little  cattle-station  it  don't  matter  so  much,  as  I  tell 
Tregaskiss." 

Mr.  Cusack's  patronage  and  brag  had  the  effect  of  irri- 
tating Tregaskiss  beyond  measure  and  of  intensifying 
Clare's  rather  haughty  reserve. 


90  MRS.   TREGASKISS. 

"  How  anybody  can  care  about  that  woman  beats  me," 
Mr.  Cusack  declared  to  the  land  commissioner  later.  "  A 
black  gin  from  the  camp  would  be  a  deuced  sight  better 
company."  To  which  the  commissioner,  who  did  not  like 
Cusack,  and  meant  to  assess  him  as  heavily  as  justice  per- 
mitted, quoted  the  opinion  of  Cyrus  Chance,  the  miser 
millionaire,  that  there  was  none  in  the  district  fit  to  hold 
a  candle  to  Keith  Tregaskiss'  wife. 

Dr.  Geneste  was  on  one  side  of  Helen,  and  the  young 
man  from  Melbourne  got  short  and  preoccupied  replies  to 
his  eager  remarks.  Geneste  and  Helen  seemed  excellent 
friends,  though  it  might  have  struck  a  close  observer  that 
at  the  beginning  of  the  meal  both  were  labouring  under  a 
slight  embarrassment.  But  this  wore  off,  on  his  side,  at 
any  rate.  He  talked  to  her  about  some  books  he  had  lent 
her,  and  led  her  on  to  the  asking  of  questions  and  to  the 
giving  of  her  opinion  upon  them,  which  she  did  with  a 
shy  deference  that  must  have  been  very  taking.  The  atti- 
tude of  preceptor  to  a  charming  girl  is  one  which,  from 
Abelard  to  the  Nouvelle  Heloise,  has  had  its  delights  and 
its  dangers.  Geneste  was  twenty  years  older  than  Helen, 
and,  moreover,  was  a  man  who  had  in  his  time  stood  out 
among  men  of  abilities  beyond  the  average.  It  was  quite 
natural  that  Helen  should  regard  him  as  a  superior  being. 

The  younger  ones  of  the  party  went  out  after  dinner 
and  strolled  about  the  garden,  while  the  older  gentlemen 
settled  themselves  in  squatters'  chairs  in  the  veranda  and 
smoked.  Mrs.  Cusack  went  with  Clare  Tregaskiss  to  see 
the  baby.  At  dessert  the  company  had  been  reinforced 
from  the  bachelors'  quarters  by  one  or  two  stray  men,  and 
the  secretary  of  the  Pastoralist  Committee,  who  had 
ridden  over  from  Ilgandah  to  convene  a  meeting  for  the 
discussion  of  precautionary  measures  against  the  threat- 
ened labour  strike.  Dessert,  however,  was  mainly  eaten 
out  of  doors. 

The  moon  was  just  two  nights  older  than  when  it  had 


THE   CUSACKS.  91 

illumined  Dr.  Geneste's  ride  and  inspired  his  reflections 
between  Cedar  Hill  and  The  Grave,  and  it  gave  sufficient 
light  for  the  distinguishing  of  ripe  strawberry  guavas, 
passion  fruit,  and  Cape  mulberries  just  coming  into  season. 
Geneste  and  Helen  presently  found  themselves  separated 
from  the  rest — the  result  of  innocent  tendency  on  the  part 
of  the  girl  and  of  deliberate  design  on  that  of  her  gov- 
erness. Miss  Lawford  had  made  a  compact  with  herself 
to  forego  all  attempt  at  flirtation  with  Geneste,  and  to 
further  as  far  as  lay  in  her  power  an  understanding 
between  the  two.  Helen,  she  guessed,  was  quite  prepared 
to  adore  Geneste  ;  nothing  could  be  more  natural  than 
that  Geneste  should  admire  Helen,  and  she  herself  would 
find  her  matrimonial  operations  much  facilitated  by  a 
removal  from  the  scene  of  this  too  attractive  young  lady 
of  the  house.  Miss  Lawford  scented  crisis  in  the  meeting 
this  evening  ;  and  she  was  not  wrong  in  her  suspicion. 
On  the  occasion  of  Geneste's  last  visit  to  Brinda  Plains 
there  had  passed  between  him  and  Helen  that  of  which, 
ever  since,  the  girl  had  never  for  one  moment  been 
unconscious. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

RETROSPECTIVE. 

YET  the  episode  had  been  a  nothing,  counted  in  the  life 
of  any  ordinary  young  woman. 

The  night  had  been  just  such  an  one  as  this,  only  that 
there  was  a  fuller  moon  and  the  stars  were  paler  diamonds 
in  space.  And  they  two  had  gone  out  after  dinner  and 
had  made  for  the  passion-vine  trellis — where  they  were 
standing  now — to  see  if  any  fruit  were  ripe  yet.  The 
fruit  had  not  been  nearly  ready  to  gather  ;  the  green  eggs 
were  only  faintly  purpling,  but  Geneste  had  been  at  pains 
to  discover  one  which,  in  the  moonlight  at  least,  gave 
promise  of  sweetness. 

"  Try  it,"  he  said. 

Helen  bit  into  the  rind  with  her  pretty  white  teeth, 
slightly  pointed  in  front  like  those  of  a  rodent.  It 
occurred  to  him  at  the  moment  to  wonder  whether,  ascend- 
ing to  certain  physiognomical  theories,  this  peculiarity 
suggested  a  subtler  side  of  her  nature  than  appeared  under 
the  Madonna-like  placidity  of  her  expression.  He  remem- 
bered having  read  somewhere  that  the  feature  was  sup- 
posed to  be  symptomatic  of  tenacity  of  purpose  and  of  the 
affections.  The  trellis  from  which  he  had  gathered  the 
passion  fruit  overshadowed  a  bank  against  which  a  seat 
was  placed,  so  that  the  turfed  bank  made  a  sort  of  cushion 
to  the  bench.  The  vine  was  planted  in  a  bed  at  a  higher 
level,  from  which  the  bank  sloped,  and  tapestried  the  wall 
of  a  gardener's  hut,  spreading  out  as  a  roof  to  a  roughly 
constructed  veranda.  The  hut  was  now  used  as  a  fern 
house  and  was  entered  at  the  opposite  side.  Helen  and 


RETROSPECTIVE.  93 

Geneste  sat  down  on  the  bench — Mrs.  Cusack  called  it  her 
"lover's  seat,"  and  used  to  boast  of  the  number  of  engage- 
ments which  had  been  concluded  on  the  spot.  Helen  toyed 
with  the  fruit,  caressing  it  softly  with  her  lips  before  she 
bit  it.  Geneste  still  watched  her  and  thought  how  pretty 
she  was  and  how  tender.  There  was  an  unconscious 
coquetry  in  her  action,  which  troubled  and  stirred  him. 
The  rind  was  acrid  ;  she  made  a  little  wry  face  and  threw 
the  fruit  away. 

"  It's  not  ripe  yet.  Poor  thing  !  What  a  pity  to 
gather  it.  Now  it's  dead  and  done  for ;  it's  bleeding 
away."  Site  pointed  to  the  pale  purplish  juice  which 
exuded  from  the  skin.  "And  I  have  killed  it." 

"  Happy  passion  fruit !  It  has  died  in  the  flush  of 
promise  by  a  kiss  from  a  woman's  lips." 

"  A  cruel  kiss  !  " 

"  I  am  not  sure — I  think  I  envy  the  passion  fruit.  Imag- 
ine the  rapturous  expectancy  as  your  breath  ruffled  its 
down,  and  the  thrill  when  your  mouth  pressed  against  it — 
presuming,  of  course,  that  a  passion  fruit  is  capable  of  emo- 
tion, and,  anyhow,  its  name  justifies  the  fancy.  And  then 
the  accessories  :  moonlight,  the  scent  of  tropical  flowers, 
the  silence  and  sweetness  of  the  garden  ;  and,  above  all, 
the  death-dealer — a  girl,  a  kiss  !  One  couldn't  conceive  a 
more  poetic  euthanasia.  How  much  better  than  to  outlive 
hope,  enjoyment,  and  romance,  and  then  to  die  by  degrees 
of  old  age  and  apathy." 

"  What  a  strange  idea  to  come  into  your  head.  I  didn't 
think  men  ever  had  notions  of  that  kind." 

"  Don't  you  ever  have  notions  of  that  kind  ?  " 

"Yes  ;  oh,  of  course.  I  am  quite  silly  about  growing 
tilings.  I  always  fancy  that  they  have  life." 

"  Of  course  they  have  life." 

"  I  mean  that  they  really  feel." 

"  Naturally  they  do.  They  have  nerves  and  digestions 
and  sensations,  and  they  love  and  hate  and  are  sympa- 


94  MRS.   TREGASKISS. 

thetic  with  some  human  beings  and  antipathetic  to 
others." 

"  How  do  you  mean  ?    Not  really  !  " 

"Yes.  Haven't  you  noticed  that  when  you  and  Miss 
Lawford  gather  roses  and  verbena  and  put  them  into  your 
waistbands  at  the  same  time,  hers  are  drooping  and 
wretched  an  hour  later,  while  yours  are  fresh  and  well- 
satisfied.  Your  atmosphere  is  sympathetic  to  them.  Hers 
is  not." 

"  I  had  never  thought  of  that.  But  I  have  noticed  that 
her  flowers  always  droop  when  she  has  worn  them  a  short 
time.  How  observant  you  are." 

"  I  should  have  been  a  poor  doctor  if  I  had  not  trained 
myself  to  observe." 

"  Poor  things  !  Yes,  I  think  the  flowers  do  like  me," 
Helen  said,  with  a  little  laugh.  "  I  can't  bear  to  throw  them 
away,  I  alwa3rs  have  the  feeling  that  they  suffer.  Nothing 
can  be  more  dreadful,  as  you  say,  than  the  slow  withering 
up  of  sap  and  sweetness.  I  like  to  burn  the  poor  dears, 

or  else  bury  them.  I  should  like "  She  paused  and 

looked  whimsically  at  the  passion-fruit  in  her  hand.  "  I 
should  like  to  bury  this  poor  thing." 

"  By  all  means.  The  sentiment  does  you  credit.  Let 
us  give  the  passion  fruit  honourable  interment." 

He  spoke  nervously,  looking  at  her  very  fixedly  as  he  did 
so.  She  blushed  deeply  under  his  gaze,  and  both  tried  to 
hide  their  embarrassment  beneath  an  affectation  of  gaiety. 
Helen  bent  backward  toward  the  flower  bed,  which  sloped 
to  a  level  with  her  shoulders,  and  lifting  her  arms  in  a 
particularly  graceful  attitude,  scooped  a  hole  in  the  earth, 
Avich  a  stick  she  picked  up,  and  then  she  wrapped  the  fruit 
in  one  of  its  own  green  leaves  and  laid  it  in  the  hole, 
smoothing  the  mould  as  carefully  as  if  she  had  been  King 
burying  her  doll — Ning,  by  the  way,  had  a  graveyard  of 
defunct  pets.  After  that  she  gathered  some  tiny  twigs 
and  broke  them  into  pieces,  making  with  them  a  fence  to 


RETROSPECTIVE.  95 

the  miniature  grave.  All  the  time  his  gaze  was  on  her 
face.  Presently  she  turned  to  him  and  surprised  his  eyes, 
which  had  an  expression  in  them  she  had  never  seen  there 
before.  It  gave  her  a  feeling  of  extreme  happiness,  and 
at  the  same  time  of  extreme  shyness.  She  drew  back  a 
little  and  held  up  her  hands,  palms  upward,  with  a  gesture 
that  appealed  to  him  in  a  degree  upon  which  she  had  cer- 
tainly not  calculated,  nor  indeed  he  either. 

"  I've  got  prickles  in  my  finger.  There  must  be  a 
prickly  pear  plant  up  there." 

He  took  the  two  hands  in  his.     "  Which  is  it  ?  " 

"This  one.  Do  you  think  me  dreadfully  stupid  and 
babyish  ?  Fancy  digging  a  grave  for  a  passion  fruit  ! 
But  it  can't  be  trodden  upon  and  squashed  to  pieces  now, 
poor  dear  !  and  it  deserves  that  much  after  the  pretty 
things  you  said  about  it.  But — do  you  think  I  am 
babyish  ?  " 

"  I  think  you  are "  His  voice  shook  and  the  last 

word  was  spoken  so  low  that  she  could  not  be  certain 
what  it  was  ;  she  fancied  that  he  said  "adorable."  Pres- 
ently he  said  more  loudly,  but  scarcely  with  more  steadi- 
ness :  "  When  I  see  you  as  you  are  to-night,  you  make  me 
wish " 

"  Wish  ?    Tell  me  what." 

"  You  make  me  wish  that  I  were  ten — fifteen  years 
younger  ;  different  altogether  from,  what  I  am  ;  and  that 
I  could  dare " 

Her  hand  fluttered  in  his  like  a  little  bird.  He  lifted  it 
to  his  lips  and  kissed  the  finger  which  had  prickles  in  it 
very  tenderly  and  with  self-restraint. 

"  Does  it  hurt  now  !  " 

"No.  It  didn't  hurt.  Dr.  Geneste,  I'm  not  a  little 
child.  Why  do  you  wish  that — that " 

"  That  I  could  dare Do  you  want  to  know  what  ? 

I  mean  this  I " 

He  put  her  hand  down,  and  moved  by  a  passionate 


96  MRS.   TREGASKISS. 

impulse  which  for  the  moment  mastered  him,  caught  her 
in  his  arms  and  pressed  an  eager  kiss  upon  her  lips.  He 
repented  and  was  ashamed  of  the  impulse  as  soon  as  he 
had  yielded  to  it.  The  cool  touch  of  her  childish  mouth 
had  the  effect  of  sobering  him.  And  then,  as  she  leaned 
back  with  upturned  head  against  his  arms  in  the  innocent 
abandonment  of  her  trust  and  joy,  the  look  upon  her  face 
almost  frightened  him.  It  told  him  the  truth  so  plain. 
It  made  him  realise,  with  a  stinging  sense  of  remorse,  what 
he  had  done,  and  with  a  more  selfish  enlightenment,  in 
what  kind  of  position  he  had  involved  himself — a  position 
from  which  he  might  find  a  difficulty  in  honourably  retreat- 
ing. It  made  him  pull  himself  up  shortly  and  sharply  and 
ask  of  his  reason  :  "  Do  I  or  do  I  not  want  to  marry  this 
girl?" 

There  had  always  been  in  Geneste's  character  a  curious 
blending  of  impulse  and  deliberation.  Though  feeling 
might  hurry  him  to  the  very  verge  of  crisis  he  was  able  to 
hold  himself  sufficiently  in  check  to  look  across  and  cal- 
culate consequences  before  taking  the  leap.  In  a  flash  he 
saw,  now,  consequences  that  must  follow  upon  that  unpre- 
meditated kiss,  and  determined  to  save  himself  and  at  least 
secure  time  for  reflection.  He  was  moved,  too,  by  a 
chivalrous  consideration,  late  though  it  came,  for  the  girl 
herself.  He  was  not  self-indulgent  at  the  cost  of  injury 
to  others,  and  though  he  was  in  a  manner  weak,  his  moral 
code  was  a  clearly  defined  one,  He  knew  that  he  did  not 
love  Helen  Cusack,  though  his  fancy  had  been  greatly 
attracted  by  her  sweetness  and  prettiness,  and  had  even 
dangled  round  the  notion  of  her  as  his  wife.  He  knew 
that  she  might  get  something  far  better  than  the  luke- 
warm passion,  alternating  with  calm  affection,  which  was 
all  that  he  could  give  her.  It  would  hardly  be  fair,  even 
supposing  that  he  really  desired  her,  to  take  advantage  of 
a  child's  ignorant  first  love  and  chain  her  youth,  her  hopes, 
her  latent  capacities  for  the  deepest  emotion  to  a  man  old 


RETROSPECTIVE.  97 

enough  to  be  her  father.  His  resolution  was  taken.  He 
unwound  his  arms  very  gently,  took  her  two  hands  in  his, 
drawing  slightly  away  from  her.  Then  he  bent  again  and 
quite  quietly  imprinted  a  second  and  more  chastened  kiss 
upon  her  forehead.  It  was  a  token  of  apology  and  of 
regret.  Then  he  released  her  altogether  and  got  up,  stand- 
ing as  a  suppliant  craving  pardon. 

"  Oh,  forgive  me  ! "  he  exclaimed. 

Helen  had  rightly  interpreted  his  action.  She  shrank  to 
the  corner  of  the  bench,  and  sat  huddled  up  and  with  head 
downcast.  For  several  moments  she  remained  quite  silent. 

"  Won't  you  forgive  me  ?  "  he  said  again,  in  low  pained 
tones.  "I  don't  know  how  to  excuse  myself  or  to  ask 
your  pardon.  I  can't  tell  how  I  came  to  do  it.  It's  years 
since  I  had — that  sort  of  feeling  toward  a  woman.  I 
can't  account  for  the  sudden  temptation  to  tell  you — like 
that — that  you  are  very  dear  to  me.  I  suppose,  as  a  matter 
of  fact,  it  takes  a  man  a  long  time  to  grow  quite  out  of 
the  feelings  of  youth  and  to  keep  from  overstepping  the 
line  he  had  in  sober  judgment  marked  out  for  himself 
between  friendship  and  anything  warmer.  I  am  myself 
now  ;  I  will  never  offend  again." 

Still  Helen  said  nothing.  Her  silence  distressed  and  per- 
plexed him. 

"Miss  Cusack,  I  don't  think  that  if  you  could  see  into 
my  heart  you'd  be  so  angry  with  me  ;  and  you  wouldn't 
look  upon  the  thing  perhaps  quite  in  the  same  light  as  if 
it  had  been  a  young  man  who  had  taken  such  a  liberty.  I 
am  twenty-five  years  older  than  you  are.  Oh,  you  must 
know  that  I  couldn't  honour  you  or  feel  more  tenderly  for 
you  if  you  were  my  sister — or  my  daughter.  You  do 
know  that.  Won't  you  try  and  forget  the  folly  of  a 
moment  and  let  me  show  you  in  future  that  I  can  deserve 
your  friendship  ?  Say  you  forgive  me." 

"  The  folly  of  a  moment  !  "  His  words  fell  like  the  cut 
of  a  lash  on  Helen  Cusack's  heart.  That  was  what  he 


98  MRS.  TREGASKISS. 

called  it.  For  her  it  bad  been  a  moment  of  bewildered 
ecstasy.  She  had  met  his  lips  in  frank,  full  confidence. 
And  now  he  wanted  to  show  her  that  she  mustn't  make 
too  much  of  what  had  been  only  a  passing  attraction 
toward  a  girl  who  had  looked  pretty  in  the  moonlight 
and  who  had  encouraged  him  by  an  exhibition  of  silly  senti- 
ment. She  had  been  caught  in  a  whirl — taken  off  her 
feet,  as  it  were,  and  now  though  his  tone  had  wounded 
her,  and  in  a  sense  brought  her  back  to  common  earth,  she 
was  hardly  able  to  define  her  own  feelings  or  to  realise 
the  exact  position  as  regarded  his  toward  her.  There  was 
at  least  the  joy  of  having  heard  him  say  that  she  was  very 
dear  to  him,  mingled,  though  it  was,  with  the  dread  that  in 
reality  he  despised  her.  Helen  was  a  proud  girl  and  a 
brave  one,  too.  At  his  last  appeal  she  got  up  from  the 
bench  and,  with  a  dignity  that  touched  him  deeply,  held 
out  her  hand. 

"  Please  don't  say  anything  more.  I  think  I  understand. 
I  am  glad — that  you — like  me.  Don't  you  think  that  we 
had  better  go  back  now?  Father  will  be  wanting  me  to 
play  to  him." 

But  it  had  been  quite  half  an  hour  after  their  re-entrance 
before  she  had  taken  her  place  at  the  piano  ;  and  from  that 
night  there  had  come  a  look  into  her  face  and  a  note  into 
her  voice  when  she  sang  which  had  never  been  there 
before.  She  had  not  seen  Geneste  since  then,  until 
to-night ;  he  had  gone  away  early  the  next  morning,  and 
on  the  occasion  when  he  had  come  over  to  tend  the  store- 
keeper, who  was  down  with  Northern  fever,  she  had  been 
away  on  a  visit  to  the  Ococks.  But  he  had  left  her  a 
packet  of  books,  and  a  letter  which  was  respectfully  cor- 
dial, with,  to  her  intelligence  only,  an  underlying  note  of 
contrition.  Mrs.  Cusack  read  the  letter  and  was  faintly 
perplexed  by  its  tone  ;  she  was  also  a  little  puzzled  by  a 
certain  change  which  she  noticed  in  her  daughter,  but 
oddly  enough,  matchmaker  for  the  district  as  she  was,  it 


RETROSPECTIVE.  99 

never  occurred  to  her  that  there  might  be'  any  sort  of 
flirtation  going  on  between  Geneste  and  Helen.  In  any 
case  it  was  her  way  to  let  affairs  of  that  kind  take  their 
coarse  where  her  own  family  was  concerned.  Like  a 
great  many  Australian  mothers,  she  was  indifferent  in  the 
matter  of  her  daughter's  matrimonial  prospects  ;  she  felt 
certain  that  Helen  would  marry  well  some  time,  and  was 
not  disposed  to  hasten  or  retard  the  event. 

It  was  this  episode  which  both  Helen  and  Geneste  had 
vividly  in  their  minds  when  to-night  they  found  them- 
selves alone  under  the  passion-fruit  trellis.  This  was  the 
natural  after-dinner  resort.  Helen  had  gone  there  in  the 
company  of  Harold  Gillespie,  her  Melbourne  admirer,  and 
had  not  been  aware  that  Dr.  Geneste  was  of  the  party  till 
Miss  Lawford,  darting  forward,  had  forcibly  carried  off 
Gillespie,  and  Helen,  lingering  for  a  few  moments  in  senti- 
mental reverie,  had  turned  and  come  face  to  face  with  the 
man  who  filled  her  thoughts. 

"Mrs.  Cusack  told  me  to  bring  up  some  passion  fruit 
for  Mrs.  Tregaskiss,"  he  said,  with  apparent  unconcern  ; 
"  but  I  am  quite  sure  that  she  would  like  guavas  better, 
and  that  she  would  rather  gather  them  herself." 

"  Won't  you  go  and  bring  her  along,  then  ?  "  said  Helen, 
trying  also  to  seem  at  ease. 

"I  can't.  She  and  your  mother  have  gone  to_put  the 
baby  to  bed."  He  stood  by  the  bench  as  if  waiting  for 
Helen  to  seat  herself.  "Let  me  find  some  ripe  ones  for 
you,  Miss  Cusack." 

She  sat  down,  and  he  reached  up  to  where  the  purple 
fruit  hung  from  the  leafy  roof,  and  plucked  half  a  dozen, 
which  he  laid  on  the  bench  beside  her.  "They  are  quite 
ripe  now,"  he  said. 

She  did  not  answer.  The  fruit  lay  unnoticed.  He  took 
his  place  by  her  side,  and  as  she  leaned  back  sideways  in 
something  of  the  attitude  which  had  so  roused  his  admi- 
ration on  the  last  time  they  had  sat  in  this  spot,  his  eyes, 


100  MRS.   TREGASKISS. 

by  unconscious  association,  wandered  past  her  to  the  tiny 
mound,  still  fenced  in  by  the  twigs  she  had  placed  round 
it.  One  or  two  of  them  had  been  blown  down,  and  he 
stuck  them  upright  again.  Helen  gave  an  involuntary 
shudder. 

"  Oh,  don't  !  "  she  said. 

"  Why  ?  Is  the  memory  so  liatef ul  to  you  ?  Helen, 
haven't  you  really  forgiven  me  ?  May  we  not  be  friends  ?" 

"Yes  ;  but  it  is  not  easy  to  forget,  Dr.  Geneste, — things 
that— hurt." 

"  Well,  then,  why  forget  them  ?  Only  instead  of  a  pain 
let  the  recollection  become  a  pleasure.  May  we  not 
remember  that — which  passed  between  us  as  a  pledge 
from  me  to  you  of  sincere  affection,  of  loyal  friendship  ? 
Surely  it  would  not  be  a  pain  to  think  of  me  as  your 
friend  ?  You  can't  help  my  being  that,  whether  you  like 
it  or  not.  I  shall  never  change  in  my  feelings  toward 
you." 

"Ah  !  "  Helen  gave  a  quick  drawing  in  of  her  breath, 
her  manner  altered  completely,  and  became  quite  composed, 
almost  hard.  "  How  do  you  feel  toward  me  ?  I  wish  to 
know.  Tell  me  exactly,  please,  Dr.  Geneste,  how  you 
think  of  me?" 

He  looked  at  her  a  little  surprised  by  her  question. 
The  utter  frankness  of  the  Australian  girl  was  as  yet  to 
him  an  uncalculated  quantity.  He  did,  however,  in  Helen's 
case,  recognise  the  fact  that  frankness  was  the  outcome  of 
fearless  innocence  and  also  of  self-respect.  He  began 
indeed  to  wonder  whether  he  had  rightly  described  her  to 
Mrs.  Tregaskiss  as  "  not  complex." 

"lam  afraid,"  he  said  hesitatingly,  "that  if  I  were  to 
answer  you  truthfully  you  might  think  I  was  assuming  what 
I  have  no  right  to  assume.  In  fact,  you  might  misunder- 
stand my  estimate  of  " — he  hesitated — "  of  my  influence 
over  you — of  our  relations  toward  each  other." 

"  No,  I  should  not  misunderstand  you.     I  am  giving  you 


RETROSPECTIVE.  101 

credit  for  being — loyal — in  your  thoughts  of  me.  You 
know  quite  well  that  I  look  up  to  you,  and  that  I — like 
you."  She  made  little  qualifying  pauses.  "Of  course  I 
couldn't  say  such  a  thing  to — Mr.  Gillespie,  for  instance, 
or  anybody  else  that  I  know.  I  shouldn't  say  it  if  you 
hadn't  told  me  that  I  was — dear  to  you.  I'm  treating  you 
like  a  friend,  and  I'm  trusting  you.  If  people  are  to  be 
friends,  there  shouldn't  be  any  false  pride  between  them, 
to  prevent  their  speaking  out  to  each  other  in  what  con- 
cerns their  friendship." 

"That  is  noble  of  you,  and  I  take  you  at  your  word. 
Thank  you,  Helen — I  may  call  you  Helen,  just  for  to-night, 
mayn't  I  ?  " 

"Tell  me,  then,"  she  said  again,  "  exactly  how  you  think 
of  me." 

"  I  think  of  yon  as  the  purest  and  sweetest  and  truest 
girl  I  have  ever  known.  I  think  of  you  so  much  and  so 
tenderly  that  if  I  were  of  a  different  nature  and  the  con- 
ditions other  than  they  are " 

"  The  conditions  ? "  she  interrupted.  "  What  are 
they  ?  " 

"  I  am  an  old  man — even  for  my  years,  and  those  are 
three  parts  of  an  average  lifetime.  And  I  am  a  battered 
cripple  into  the  bargain." 

"  Oh,  that !  "  she  said  impatiently.  "  Your  age  !  What 
does  it  matter  ?  " 

"  It  matters  every  thing.  You  are  eighteen.  I  am  forty- 
five.  Twenty-seven  years  between  us.  That  means  a 
cliasm  across  which  it  is  just  possible  for  us  now  to  clasp 
hands  ;  but  ten  years  hence  the  gulf  would  have  widened 
beyond  the  faintest  hope  of  real  contact  between  us." 

"  Well  ?  " 

"  What  more  can  I  say  without  seeming  a  conceited 
fool?" 

"Never  mind  that.  I  should  not  look  upon  you  so  ;  and 
there  is  none  else  to  mind  about.  I  dare  say  you  might 


102  MRS.  TREGASKISS. 

think  me  a  forward,  unmaidenly  young  woman  if  you 
judged  me  like  anybody  else,  but  it  wouldn't  be  true.  I 
feel  in  my  heart  it  would  not,  and  I  don't  care  for  any- 
thing that  merely  'seems.'" 

"  Indeed,  indeed,"  he  exclaimed  earnestly,  "  such  a 
notion  could  never  for  an  instant  cross  my  mind.  What 
could  I  feel  but  reverence,  admiration,  for  you — for  your 
generosity,  your  candour.  What  could  I  feel  but  the 
deepest  sense  of  personal  unworthiness  ?  Oh,  forgive  me, 
Miss  Cusack  !  Indeed,  I  don't  know  how  to  make  it  all 
clear  to  you." 

"  Never  mind,  let  it  be,"  she  said  again.  "  You  have 
been  telling  me  about  '  conditions.'  But  }7ou  said,  too, 
that  if  your  nature  were  different.  What  did  you  mean  by 
that  ?  " 

He  hesitated  again  before  answering.  "  Well,  I  will 
try  to  explain,  but  it  is  difficult.  I  am  conscious  that  my 
nature  is  one  which  grasps  at  the  fullest,  the  richest  of  its 
kind  that  life  can  give.  In  emotion,  sensation,  I  want  the 
most  exquisite — or  nothing.  I  could  put  aside  the  desire 
for  love — love  in  its  most  real  sense.  I  think  I  might 
deliberately  choose  for  myself,  as  most  fitting  and  satisfy- 
ing, a  calm  interest  and  affection, — if  I  could  consider  that 
fair — to  another."  He  spoke  haltingly.  "  But  if  it  were  to 
be  a  question  of  love,  that  love  must  be  the  most  complete, 
to  ensure  happiness ;  the  most  absorbing  that  there  could 
be  in  the  world.  It  must  be  perfect  sympathy,  perfect  pas- 
sion, community  of  mind  and  feeling,  such  as  could  exist  only 
between  a  man  and  woman  on  the  same  platform  as  regards 
experience,  or  one  should  say,  capacity  of  experience.  That's 
impossible  where  there  is  a  great  difference  in  age.  If  you 
and  I  stood  in  such  relation, — I  speak  boldly, — we  should 
both  be  in  a  false  position.  I  should  be  disappointed, 
however  unreasonably  ;  and  far  worse,  I  should  disappoint 
the  woman  I  wished  to  make  happy.  The  end  would  be 
bitterness.  In  short  if  I  were  married  to  you,  Helen, — I  say 


RETROSPECTIVE.  103 

it  out, — you  would  not  be  my  wife  in  the  real  sense  ;  nor 
would  you  be  the  dear  girl-comrade  whose  thoughts  and 
ways  are  so  full  of  charm,  and  whose  companionship  is 
such  a  delight  to  me.  Don't  be  offended  at  my  frankness." 

"  I  am  not  in  the  least  offended.  Is  it  not  what  I  asked 
you  for  ?  "  she  replied  gravely.  "  Only  there  is  one  thing 
I  should  like  to  say.  You  speak  to  me  and  of  me  as  if  I 
were  a  child  out  of  the  playroom.  That's  what  you  have 
labelled  me  in  your  fancy  ;  and  you  dangle  dolls  before 
me  and  wrap  up  my  powder  in  jam.  I  want  to  say  that  I 
am  not  a  child  ;  and  that  if  you  really  seriously  reflected 
about  me,  you  would  know  from  the  fact  of  my  talking  to 
j^ou  as  I  am  talking  now,  that  I  am  a  woman  who  can 
think  as  well  as  feel." 

"  You  are  giving  me  new  revelations  of  your  character, 
and  I  believe  that  you  are  right,"  he  said.  "  That  is  one 
of  the  unexpected  speeches  you  sometimes  bring  out, 
which  make  your  mind  a  pleasure  and,  in  part,  a  mystery  to 
me  ;  which  make  me  afraid,  and  ashamed,  too,  of  the  feeling 
I  have  for  you  at  moments — moments  like  that  one  for 
which  I  have  begged  your  forgiveness." 

*?  You  mean  that  at  such  moments,  you  are — almost — in 
love  with  me. 

"  Yes,"  he  said,  in  a  low  voice  ;  "  as  you  would  under- 
stand it." 

"  But  not  in  love  with  me  enough  to  make  you  want  to 
marry  me  ?  Tell  me,  is  that  so  ?  " 

"  Since  you  will  have  the  truth — as  far  as  I  know  it,  that 
is  so.  Helen,  you  put  me  into  an  ungracious  position  by 
forcing  me  to  speak  so  plainly.  What  right  have  I  to 
suppose  that  you  would  care  to  marry  me  ?  It  is  presump- 
tion on  my  part." 

"I  told  you  what  I  thought  about  that;  and  I  don't 
think  you  have  acted  quite  as  if  you  thought  it  presump- 
tion," she  said  sadly,  with  a  touch  of  irony  that  gave  him 
a  sense  of  humiliation.  "  What  an  odd  talk  we  have  had  ! " 


104  MRS.   TREGASKISS. 

Helen  went  on  in  a  different  tone.  "  It's  something  like 
the  Lancelot  and  Elaine  scene,  I  think.  Do  you  know,  Dr. 
Geneste,  you  have  always  seemed  to  me  a  sort  of  Lancelot." 

He  made  an  impatient  gesture.  "  I  am  not  in  the  faint- 
est degree  like  Elaine's  Lancelot,"  he  said,  with  a  laugh, 
"  except  in  the  being  '  marred  and  more  than  twice  her 
years ' — any  more  than  you  are  like  Elaine,  except  in  your 
youth  and  your  fairness.  And  then  there's  one  immense 
dissimilarity." 

"  You  have  no  Guinevere — yet,"  she  put  in  directly. 
"  Was  there  ever  a  Guinevere  ?  Will  you  show  me  that  I 
am  your  friend,  and  tell  me,  frankly,  if  there  was  ever  a 
Guinevere?" 

"  Yes."  He  spoke  jerkily.  "  There  was  once  a  woman, 
— she  was  not  a  Guinevere,  for  she  was  free, — and  she  was 
bad  ;  now  she  is  dead,  in  as  far  as  I  am  concerned  with 
her." 

Helen  got  up,  and,  as  she  did  so,  he  also  rose  mechani- 
cally. She  held  out  her  hand  and  he  clasped  it.  "  Now  I 
know  that  we  are  friends.  Dr.  Geneste,  will  you  give  me 
one  more  proof  of  your  friendship.  Will  you  make  ine  a 
promise  ?  " 

"  What  is  it  ?  "  he  said  uneasily. 

"  Will  you  promise  me  that  if  there  should  ever  again 
— ever  be  a — Guinevere,  you  will  tell  me  ?" 

He  did  not  answer  for  a  moment.  She  made  as  though 
she  would  withdraw  her  hand.  He  clasped  it  tighter  and 
said  :  "  Yes,  I  promise.  But  that  will  never  be." 

"  If  it  is,  you  will  tell  me.  And  then — then No, 

we  won't  call  her  a  Guinevere,  for  I  couldn't  wish  you 
happiness,  could  I  ?  I  could  only — only " 

"  Only  what  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  I  could  only  pray  for  you,"  she  said  very  gravely,  "  and 
that  I  would  do  with  my  whole  soul." 


CHAPTER  IX. 

IN  THE   GARDEN. 

THE  furniture  was  pushed  back  in  the  drawing-room, 
and  they  had  begun  dancing  when  Helen  and  Geneste 
reached  the  house.  Mrs.  Cusack  was  at  the  piano.  She 
played  with  an  energy  and  emphasis  which  seemed  to  say 
that  her  mission  in  life,  during  the  evenings  at  any  rate, 
was  to  provide  a  metroriomical  accompaniment  to  the 
capers  of  her  young  folk.  Her  music  could  hardly  be 
called  anything  but  a  measure  of  time.  She  looked  up 
and  nodded  as  Geneste  appeared. 

"  Putting  the  unbroken  colts  through  their  paces,  you 
see !  No  use,  I  suppose,  telling  you  to  find  a  partner. 
But  you  can  go  and  talk  to  Mrs.  Tregaskiss  on  the 
veranda.  She  doesn't  condescend  to  our  bush  amuse- 
ments." 

There  was  some  acidity  in  Mrs.  Cusack's  tone.  She  was 
vexed  because  Mrs.  Tregaskiss  had  declined  to  polka  with 
her  Martin.  Martin  was  now  consoling  himself  with  the 
youngest  Miss  Ocock.  He  was  an  ungainly  youth,  all 
legs  and  arms,  and  with  much  of  his  father's  self-impor- 
tance. The  Pastoralist  committeeman  and  Miss  Lawford 
were  jigging  from  side  to  side,  while  the  land  commis- 
sioner looked  on  with  melancholy  interest  from  a  doorway. 
He  was  not  quite  sure  whether  Miss  Lawford  attracted 
or  repelled  him.  He  had  begun  to  think  that,  at  any  rate, 
as  a  wife,  she  would  "  keep  him  up  to  the  mark."  She 
was  a  young  lady  of  catholic  tendencies  in  the  matter  of 
flirtation,  and  now  ran  up  to  Tregaskiss,  who  was  looking 
on  too. 

"  You  must  take  a  turn   with  me,  Mr.   Tregaskiss.     I 

106 


106  MRS.   TREGASKISS. 

know  that  you  dance  beautifully,  and,  of  course,  you  must 
have  gone  to  heaps  of  balls  when  you  were  in  England. 
Do,  Mrs.  Cusack,  let  us  have  a  waltz." 

"  Oh,  hang  it  !  Miss  Lawford,  I'm  too  old  and  too  fat, 
and  a  married  man  besides,"  laughed  Tregaskiss,  in  his 
hoarse  way.  But  he  was  flattered,  and,  with  a  little  more 
persuasion,  put  his  arm  around  the  governess'  waist  and 
steered  her  off  to  Mrs.  Cusack's  somewhat  soulless  strains. 
Young  Gillespie  approached  Helen. 

"  I've  been  waiting  for  you." 

"  I  don't  believe  you  ought  to  dance,"  she  answered. 
"  I  heard  you  coughing  this  morning." 

"  Oh,  don't,  please !  Why  mayn't  I  be  like  other 
fellows  ?  " 

"  You  were  sent  up  here  for  your  health,  you  know." 

"  I  wasn't  sent.  I  came.  And  my  health  had  nothing 
to  do  with  it.  I  came  because  I  wanted  to  see  you," 
declared  the  young  man  boldly. 

"  Do  you  think  your  father  would  have  got  you  two 
months'  leave  from  the  bank  for  that  ?  Besides,  all  that  is 
nonsense.  I  told  you  that  you  mustn't  ever  speak  of  it. 
Come,  then,  let  us  dance." 

She  cut  short  his  second  attempt  at  a  tender  speech. 
And  she  really  liked  waltzing  with  him.  Gillespie  and 
Helen  were  quite  the  best  dancers  in  the  room.  They  had 
the  Melbourne  step,  which  in  Australia  represents  the 
Viennese.  Compared  with  Helen's  dancing,  that  of  Miss 
Lawford  seemed  a  vulgar  romp.  To-night  she  glided  with 
an  unusual  sfateliness,  and  her  face  was  grave  almost  to 
sadness.  Gillespie,  quick  to  notice  any  change  in  Helen's 
demeanour  and  expression,  told  himself  that  she  had  some- 
how grown  much  older  of  late.  There  were  depths  in  her 
eyes  and  a  subdued  tension  in  her  manner  that  suggested 
some  "  experience."  That  was  how  he  phrased  it.  In  the 
case  of  a  jroung  girl,  "  experience  "  means  only  one  thing. 
He  spoke  out  his  thought. 


IX   THE   GARDEN.  107 

"I  wish  you'd  tell  me  whether  it's  Geneste's  coming 
that  has  made  you  different." 

"  Different !     I  don't  understand." 

"  You  used  to  be  so  jolly  and  bright  and  up  to  any  fun, 
and  you  used  to  seem  as  if  you  liked  talking  to  me.  Now 
you're  always  reading  those  books  Geneste  lends  you,  and 
when  you  are  not  reading  you  are  thinking,  and  when  you 
are  not  thinking  you  are  sitting  out  in  the  garden  by  your- 
self, or  else  with  him." 

"He  has  not  been  here  for  three  weeks — three  weeks 
to-day." 

"  How  well  you  remember  !  Last  time  he  was  here  you 
sat  out  with  him  in  the  garden  nearly  the  whole  evening  ; 
and  now  again  you  have  done  the  same  to-night.  And 
when  I  ask  you  to  take  a  turn  to  the  lagoon,  or  to  look  at 
the  stars,  or  to  get  mulberries  or  guavas,  or  anything  else 
after  dinner,  you  always  say  that  you  must  play  to  your 
father." 

"I  thought  you  liked  music." 

"  So  I  do  ;  but  I  like  talking  to  you  all  by  myself  better. 
You  know  what  I  told  you,  Nell  ?  " 

"  You  mustn't  call  me  Nell.     Nobody  calls  me  Nell." 

"  My  mother  and  sister  and  the  girls  in  Melbourne  did. 
Here  you  are  '  Helen,'  stiff,  cold  Helen — Dr.  Geneste's 
Helen  ;  only  I  dare  say  you  are  not  stiff  and  cold  to  him." 

"  Stop  !  No,  I  don't  mean  stop  dancing,  but  saying 
things  like  that.  If  you  go  on,  I  shall  never  speak  to  you 
again.  It's  impertinent  and — uncalled  for  to  couple  my 
name  with  other  people's  names." 

"  Geneste  isn't  '  other  people.'  Nell,  tell  me,  tell  me 
truthfully,  does  he  want  to  marry  you?" 

"  Yes,  I  will  tell  you  truthfully — that  he  does  not  want 
to  marry  me." 

"  How  strangely  your  voice  sounds !  One  might 
think " 

"What?     Take  care!" 


108  MRS.  TREGASKISS. 

"  Oh,  dash  it  !  Of  ceurse  it  would  be  impertinent  to 

hint  that  you And,  of  course,  lie  is  a  great  deal  too' 

old  for  you,  Nell." 

"  That  is  certainly  true.  He  is  twenty-five  years  older 
than  I  am,  and  we  are  great  friends  and  nothing  else,  and 
never  shall  be  anything  else  as  long  as  we  live.  Is  that 
enough  for  you  ?  No\v,  please  don't  ever  speak  of  him  in 
that  way  again." 

"No,  I  won't.  You've  relieved  my  mind.  You  know 
what  I  hope.  Naturally,  I  have  to  wait  till  I've  got  my 
step  in  the  bank.  But  that's  sure  to  come  soon — with  the 
governor's  interest." 

"  Oh,  yes,  of  course  it  is  a  grand  thing  to  have  a  father 
who  is  in  the  Ministry.  But  you  are  breaking  the  contract. 
And  now,  I'm  going  to  make  mother  let  me  play  for  a  bit, 
and  you  can  get  Miss  Ocock  to  dance  with  you." 

"  No  ;  I  will  have  Minnie.  She's  next  best  to  you.  Or 
shall  I  ask  Mrs.  Tregaskiss — she's  out  in  the  veranda  ?  'V 

But  Mrs.  Tregaskiss  was  not  in  the  veranda.  She  had 
strolled  unnoticed  along  the  gravel  walk  to  the  side  of  the 
house  where  some  young  orange  trees  were  in  bloom,  mak- 
ing the  night  fragrant.  A  short  path  between  the  orange 
trees  led  to  the  children's  wing,  where  Ning  was  sleeping, 
and  which  adjoined  the  room  in  the  main  building  given  to 
Clare  and  her  husband.  She  had  a  vague  intention  of 
listening  whether  her  baby  was  awake,  but  all  was  silent, 
and  Claribel,  the  half-caste,  squatted  outside  the  French 
window  unctuously  chewing  a  bit  of  sorghum  and  keeping 
guard  over  her  infant  charge.  The  barrel-organ  sound  of 
the  piano  sounded  less  aggressively  here,  and  only  scraps 
of  the  bushmen's  talk  in  the  veranda,  which  had  got  upon 
her  nerves  as  she  sat  and  listened  to  it,  floated  into  the 
night. 

"Horse  knocked  out — he  was  in  low  condition,  and  the 
long  stage  cooked  him.  Those  beats  are  rolling  fat.  If 
you  cross  Moolburra  Range — track  to  the  right — brings  you 


IN  THE  GARDEN.  109 

alongside  of  an  old  sheep-station.  Follow  the  range — can't 
miss  it,"  and  so  on. 

This  was  the  sort  of  intellectual  food  which  social  even- 
ings on  the  Leura  usually  furnished.  At  home,  Clare 
would  sit  and  sew,  and  listen  with  a  certain  dull  interest, 
because  the  talk  had  mostly  to  do  with  the  business  of  their 
own  station,  and  Tregaskiss  had  a  way  of  appealing  to  her 
occasionally  in  such  remarks  as  : 

"  I  say,  Clare,  did  you  hear  that  ?  The  Gripper  has  been 
going  for  our  clean-skins,"  or,  "Clare,  remember,  will  you, 
that  the  men  at  the  bore  want  rations,  and  weigh  them 
out  for  Tommy  George  to  take  to-morrow  ?"  and  it  would 
happen  that  she  got  "chaffed"  or  scolded,  according  to 
Tregaskiss'  humour,  if  she  awakened  out  of  a  dream  and 
confessed  that  she  had  not  heard  what  had  been  said  to 
her.  But  there  was  no  obligation  to  keep  a  mind  alert  to 
cattle  talk  in  Mr.  Cusack's  house.  And  oh,  what  an  even- 
ing on  which  to  escape  from  everyday  worries  in  dreams, 
if,  indeed,  dreaming  could  bring  her  either  satisfaction  or 
hope.  Presently  another  sentence  of  the  bushmen's  con- 
versation roused  her  and  struck  some  chord  of  whimsical 
association,  though  in  itself  it  was  quite  unimportant,  so 
that  she  laughed  softly  to  herself. 

"  Do  you  like  the  garden  here,  Mrs.  Tregaskiss  ?  "  Dr. 
Geneste  said,  coming  quietly  beside  her.  "It  seems  my 
fate  to  startle  you,"  he  added,  as  she  turned  with  a  quick 
movement  at  the  sound  of  his  voice.  "  The  music  and  the 
insects,  and  those  fellows  holding  forth  about  their  stations 
and  their  stock,  drowned  my  footsteps,  I  expect.  Mrs. 
Cusack  told  me  to  come  and  look  after  you — she  said  you 
didn't  care  to  dance." 

"  Oh,  my  dancing  days  are  over  long  ago  !  "  Clare  an- 
swered. 

"  Why  do  you  talk  as  if  everything  had  ended  for  you, 
and  you  were  an  old  woman  ?" 

"  So  I  am — old— old — old.     Look  at  the  plain,"  she  went 


110  MRS.   TREGASK1SS 

on  irrelevantly.  "  In  this  light  it  is  exactly  like  the  sea. 
Do  you  know  what  I  was  thinking,  and  what  this  garden 
put  me  in  mind  of?  You  remember  the  terrace  at  Monte 
Carlo?" 

"  Yes  :  but  I  can't  imagine  anything  more  unlike  this 

o  *  o 

scene." 

"  Oh,  no,  not  at  all.  There,  that  long  stretch  of  plain 
is  the  Mediterranean — when  it  is  a  bluey-brown  colour  on 
a  muggy  night.  That  fence  of  prickly  pear  with  the  aloe 
sticking  up,  and  the  pepper  tree,  might  be  the  sea-parapet ; 
and  the  hum  of  the  insects  is  very  much  the  same,  or  you 
might  fancy  it  the  murmur  of  the  waves.  And  the  orange 
flowers  and  the  bamboos,  and  those  trellises  of  thumbergia 
and  allamanda,  and  the  shrubs  of  scented  verbena — oh, 
don't  you  love  scented  verbena?"  She  gathered  a  sprig 
as  she  spoke,  and  crumbled  it  between  her  fingers,  inhaling 
its  perfume  with  a  luxurious  enjoyment  that,  as  he  watched 
her,  gave  him  a  curious  feeling  as  to  a  certain  finely  sensu- 
ous side  to  her  nature.  "  Then,  the  lights  behind,"  she 
went  on,  "and  the  sound  of  the  music,  of  voices,  and  of 
laughter,  and  all  the  rest.  All  that  ought  to  be  there,  even 
if  one  cannot  find  it.  No,  I  don't  think  the  comparison  is 
so  tremendously  out.  Anyhow,  it  came  into  my  mind." 

"  When  were  you  at  Monte  Carlo  ?  " 

"Years  and  years  ago — before  I  was  married.  My  poor 
father  took  me  one  Easter  to  the  Riviera,  and  we  spent 
a  fortnight  at  Monte  Carlo." 

She  gathered  a  bit  of  orange  blossom,  smelled  it,  and 
tossed  it  away.  "  I  suppose  those  were  the  days  when  I 
had  the  illusions,  or  at  least  such  of  those  as  I  was  capable 
of  cherishing — which  you  said  belonged  to  youth,  love,  and 
all  that.  No,"  she  added,  correcting  herself,  "  I  don't 
think  that  even  then  I  was  capable  of  imagining  the  sort  of 
Arcadia  into  which  young  girls  are  supposed  to  enter  when 
they  are  first  engaged.  It's  rather  wonderful,  considering 
the  conditions." 


IX  THE  GARDEN.  Ill 

"The  conditions  !  "  he  repeated.  "Yes,  perhaps  it  was 
wonderful.  You  were  engaged  to  be  married  and  your — 
your  future  husband  was  with  you.  One  must  conclude 
that  the  conditions  were  favourable  to  romance." 

She  was  silent  for  a  moment.  Then  she  said  :  "  You  are 
saying  to  yourself  that  Mr.  Tregaskiss  could  never  have 
been  a  very  romantic  kind  of  person,  not  the  kind  whom 
one  naturally  associates  with  Monte  Carlo,  and  music,  and 
human  drama.  But  I  was  not  engaged  to  Mr.  Tregaskiss. 
It  was  someone  else." 

'  "  Ah  !  "  He  wondered  if  he  had  got  the  clue  to  her  tragic 
resignation.  There  had  been  someone  else.  Then  he* 
remembered  her  allusion  to  a  lover  who  had  deserted  her 
in  the  day  of  adversity. 

"  Surely  if  you  were  in  such  love  with  the  man  you  were 
engaged  to,  you  must  have  found  yourself  in  Arcadia,  if 
only  for  a  short  time,"  he  said. 

"I  was  never  much  in  love  with  him,"  she  answered 
calmly;  "and  when  he  left  me  my  pride  only  was 
wounded.  He  was  handsome  and  fashionable,  and  better 
born  than  I,  and  he  only  wanted  me  because  he  thought  I 
had  money.  It  was  after  he  threw  me  over  that  I  married 
Keith  Tregaskiss.  Now,  do  you  undei'stand?" 

"Yes,"  he  said  quietly,  "I  understand.  I  am  very  sorry 
for  you,  and  I  wish  that  I  could  help  you." 

"  Never  mind.  Can  you  guess  what  I  was  thinking  of 
when  j'ou  interrupted  me  just  now.?"  she  asked  abruptly. 

"  No,  for  I  am  sure  that  if  I  drew  the  commonplace 
inference  I  should  be  wrong.  And  you  seemed  amused  at 
something." 

She  laughed  again.  "It's  commonplace  enough.  Some- 
body over  there  was  saying  something  about  a  '  poley 
cow '  that  had  got  into  the  pound  at  Ilgandah,  and  had  to 
be  bought  out.  It  struck  me  as  a  great  pity  that  all  this 
poetic  setting  should  be  wasted  on  such  very  prosaic  drama 
as  the  ransoming  of  a  poley  cow." 


112  MRS.   TREGASKISS. 

He  laughed  too,  but  uneasily. 

"You  may  be  quite  certain,"  be  said,  "  tbat  there's  more 
human  drama  going  ort  among  those  dancers  in  there,  than 
any  of  us  suspect.  Just  think  of  poor  little  Miss  Lawford, 
and  the  tragedy  of  disappointed  affections  and  blighted 
hopes  which  may  underlie  that  boisterous  gaiet}'.  Think 
of  the  land  commissioner,  whose  heart  is  buried  in  bis 
wife's  grave " 

"  No,  no,"  she  interrupted.  "  Miss  Lawford  has  resur- 
rected it." 

"  Well,  there's  something  sensational  in  that  idea,  any- 
Jiow.  And  talking  of  tragedy,  here's  one.  Did  you  notice 
the  thin,  fair  woman  with  the  very  bright  colour,  whom  I 
wouldn't  allow  to  come  out  into  the  garden  after  dinner, 
for  I  knew  she  would  be  romping  with  the  girls  and  exert- 
ing herself  ?  " 

"  Mrs.  Carmody  ?  Yes,  I  know  all  about  her.  The 
bank  came  down  on  Ballandean  and  her  husband  is  just 
allowed  to  carry  it  on  on  th'e  chance  of  working  off  the 
debt,  and  so  they  can't  have  a  servant  or  proper  hands  for 
the  run,  and  she  helps  him  to  muster,  and  milks  the  cows, 
and  mends  and  makes  and  toils,  and  teaches  the  children 
into  the  bargain.  And  there  are  a  lot  of  children  ;  but  it's 
a  common  tragedy  out  here,  after  all,  though  I  was  think- 
ing during  dinner,  Dr.  Geneste,  that  Mrs.  Carmody  is  an 
example  to  me.  Mrs.  Cusack  has  got  her  here  for  a  little 
holiday,  and  see  how  she  is  enjoying  it,  and  how  gay  and 
plucky  and  bright  she  is." 

"  I  don't  think  you  want  to  have  an  example,  you  are 
one  yourself  to  all  of  us.  That's  not  the  tragedy,  for  her 
nature  wouldn't  make  it  one.  She  isn't  complex,  and  she 
doesn't  soar  to  higher  things  ;  her  children  and  her  daily 
round  content  her.  The  tragedy  is  that  the  children  want 
her,  and  Carmody  wants  her,  and  her  grip  on  life  in  one 
sense  is  keen,  and  one  could  as  soon  convince  her  that  she 
is  blind  as  that  she  has,  as  I  greatly  fear,  a  disease  which 


IN  THE  GARDEN.  113 

may  kill  her.  As  for  Carmocty,  lie  is  just  an  obstinate 
dunderhead.  He  won't  let  himself  believe  there  is  anything 
the  matter  with  her — as  long  as  she  says  she  is  all  right. 
He  laughs  at  me  and  won't  even  let  me  doctor  her." 

"  Is  she  really  so  ill  ?  She  doesn't  look  so."  Clare  was 
startled.  "  It's  consumption,  I  suppose  ?  " 

"  No,  it's  something  else — unless  I  am  very  much 
deceived;  and,  as  I  tell  you,  her  husband  laughs  at  the 
notion  of  anything  serious  being  the  matter.  If  you  ever 
get  a  chancej  Mrs.  Tregaskiss,  you  might  do  something 
there.  He  won't  let  me  overhaul  her." 

"Yes,   if  it  is  possible,  I  will,"  she  answered  gravely. 

They  walked  on,  talking  of  poor  Mrs.  Carmody,  and 
turned,  coming  presently  to  a  point  from  which  they  could 
see  the  dancers  in  the  drawing-room.  Mrs.  Carmody, 
silhouetted  against  the  light  wall,  seemed  to  be  chattering 
eagerly.  Miss  Lawford  was  now  at  the  piano,  and  Mrs. 
Cusack  was  fussing  about  in  the  dining-room,  where  re- 
freshments of  fruit,  cake,  and  home-made  lemonade  were 
being  set  out.  Tregaskiss  was  with  her,  and  at  the  mo- 
ment was  pouring  some  spirit  from  the  decanter  and  mixing 
it  with  the  lemonade.  Helen  Cusack  passed  by  with 
young  Gillespie.  Clare  looked  at  her  companion  and  saw 
that  his  eyes  were  following  the  girl.  She  said  impul- 
sively :  "  Yes,  I  was  quite  wrong.  Everything  in  the 
bush  isn't  prosaic.  There's  a  bit  of  romance  here  that 
will  turn  perhaps  into  a  pretty  love  story." 

"  A  love  story  !  "  he  repeated  sharply. 

"  Mr.  Gillespie  is  in  love  with  Miss  Cusack.  Did  you 
not  know  that  ?  " 

"  It No,  I  confess  that  had  not  occurred  to  me." 

"  I  can  see  all  the  elements  of  a  hopeless  passion,"  she 
went  on,  in  her  soft,  deliberate  voice,  and  smiling  that  re- 
pressed smile  of  hers,  which  might  mean  so  much  or  so 
little.  He  had  an  impatient  fancy  that  she  was  probing 
him,  searching  him  with  her  long  narrowed  gaze,  that  she 


114  MRS.   TREGASKISS. 

might  discover  his  real  feeling  for  Helen  Cusack.  He 
was  not  altogether  wrong.  "  To  ine,"  Clare  added,  "  31  r. 
Gillespie  looks  consumptive.  I  should  have  thought  him  in 
far  worse  case  than  3Irs.  Carmody." 

"  Oh,  he  will  got  over  that — just  the  after-effects  of  in- 
fluenza. I  suppose  it  would  be  a  good  match  for  her,"  he 
said  with  an  effort. 

"  Oh,  yea,  of  course.  3Irs.  Cusack  tells  me  that  his 
father  is  Minister  or  Speaker — or  something  of  the  sort. 
But  you  know,  Dr.  Geneste,  that  Helen  doesn't  care  for 
him — not  the  least  little  bit." 

He  said  nothing.     She  persisted. 

"  You  do  know  that,  don't  you  ?  " 

"  Why  should  I  know  it  ?  " 

"  Because Xever  mind." 


CHAPTER  X. 

LIGHT   ON   THE    TEAGEDY. 

CLAKE  stopped  suddenly  and  resumed  her  walk.  They 
passed  again  the  French  window  that  opened  into  the  din- 
ing-room, and  Tregaskiss'  tones,  jovial,  yet  with  their  rasp- 
ing inflexion,  struck  disagreeably  on  Geneste's  ear. 

"  I  say,  Mrs.  Cusack,  what  are  we  to  call  this  splendid 
tipple — lemonade  cocktail — Brinda  squash — Leura  eye- 
opener — eh,  what  do  you  think  of  that?  I  wish  you'd 
give  my  wife  the  receipt.  The  best  woman  in  the  world, 
Mrs.  Tregaskiss,  and,  by  Jove  !  as  good  a  housekeeper 
as  you'd  find  on  the  Leura  ;  but  there's  one  thing  she  isn't 
quite  first-rate  at,  and  that's  making  drinks.  A  fellow 
wants  something  cool  and  refreshing  and  stimulating  too, 
when  he  comes  in  hot  and  tired  from  a  day's  mustering." 

"  Well,  you  haven't  been  mustering  on  the  run  to-day, 
Mr.  Tregaskiss,  though  I  dare  say  driving  a  buggy  over 
the  plains  is  hot  work,  too,  in  its  way."  It  was  Mrs. 
Cusack's  cheery  voice  that  answered,  with  just  a  faint  note 
of  disapproval  in  it,  tempered  by  the  natural  geniality  of 
the  hostess.  "  Anyhow,  I  shan't  allow  you  that  excuse 
for  indulging  too  freely  in  my  Leura  eye-opener,"  and 
there  was  the  laugh  which  covers  half  intention  in  a  jok- 
ing speech.  "  Of  course  I'll  be  delighted  to  give  Mrs. 
Tregaskiss  the  receipt,  and  you'll  remember  it's  the  infu- 
sion of  herbs, — and  I'll  give  you  some  of  ours  in  case  you 
don't  grow  them  at  "VVombo, — as  well  as  a  wee  bit  stronger 
dash  of  Will's  old  rum  than  ordinary,  that  gives  it  the 
flavour.  Now,  Mr.  Tregaskiss,  I'm  just  going  to  insist  on 
your  dancing  this  with  Minnie.  After  seeing  you  with 


116  MRS.   TREGASKISS. 

MissLawford,  I  can't  be  made  believe  you  don't  know  how." 
Tregaskiss  protested  he  was  old  —too  fat.  Miss  Law- 
ford  was  so  full  of  "  go  "  that  she'd  put  spirit  into  any 
"crawler";  that  was  a  woman  after  his  own  heart;  he 
didn't  mean  anything  disrespectful  to  Minnie,  and  as  she 
wasn't  out  of  the  schoolroom,  he  needn't  mind  his  p's 
and  q's,  but  the  fact  was  she  couldn't  hold  a  candle  to  her 
governess. 

Geneste  watched  Mrs.  Tregaskiss'  face  while  the  colloquy 
went  on.  Illumined  by  the  light  from  the  house,  it  wore, 
he  thought,  the  strangest  expression — a  blending  of  pity, 
contempt,  keen  anxiety,  and  angry  determination.  She 
had  come  to  a  dead  halt,  and  he  too  had  waited.  Now 
she  made  an  impatient  gesture  and  stepped  quickl}'  across 
a  bit  of  lawn  intervening  between  where  they  stood  and  the 
veranda.  It  seemed  to  him  odd  that,  looking  deliberately 

O  v 

in  front  and  about  her  as  she  did,  she  should  stumble 
awkwardly  over  a  croquet  hoop  which  was  quite  visible — 
a  white  arch  on  the  green.  She  half  fell,  stretching  out 
her  hands,  and  giving  a  cry  :  "Keith,  oh,  Keith  !  " 

Dr.  Geneste  sprang  forward  : 

"  Have  you  hurt  yourself,  Mrs.  Tregaskiss  ?  " 

He  would  have  lifted  her,  but  she  waved  him  back,  rais- 
ing herself  from  the  ground  and  again  calling  out  : 

"  Keith,  come  here  !  " 

Her  call  had  stopped  the  dancing  and  brought  forth 
Mrs.  Cusack  and  some  others  from  the  house.  Tregaskiss 
followed  his  hostess  with  a  lurching  gait.  There  were 
eager  questions.  Had  she  sprained  her  foot? — it  was  those 
tiresome  croquet  hoops,  which  no  one  would  remember  to 
take  up  !  Mrs.  Tregaskiss  put  her  arm  within  her  hns- 
band's.  She  was  completely  self-controlled  again,  and 
spoke  with  rapid  decision. 

"  I  am  so  sorry  to  have  made  such  a  disturbance.  Yes, 
I  think  I  have  turned  my  ankle  a  little.  Oh,  it's  nothing, 
really  !  Please  go  on  dancing  and  don't  mind  me.  No,  I 


LIGHT  ON  THE  TRAGEDY.  117 

am  not  in  pain,  thank  you.  Mr.  Tregaskiss  will  go  with  me 
to  my  room,  and  we'll  be  back  presently.  Come,  Keith." 

She  drew  her  husband  with  her  toward  the  wing  which 
was  approached  through  the  little  orange  grove.  He  had 
put  his  arm  round  her  and  showed  a  sort  of  dull  concern, 
repeating  :  "  What's  the  matter,  Clare  ?  what's  the  mat- 
ter ?  You  aren't  hurt,  are  you  ?  I  say,  you  dou't  mean  that 
you're  hurt  ?  " 

"  She  seems  to  be  walking  all  right,"  remarked  Mrs. 
Cusack.  "  I  don't  think  it's  anything  serious.  I  know  one 
feels  horrid  after  twisting  one's  foot,  but  it  goes  off  in  a 
moment  or  two.  Do  come  in,  Dr.  Geneste.  I  want  you  to 
look  after  Mrs.  Carmody,  and  make  her  have  some  supper 
and  pack  her  off  to  bed,  poor  thing  ! " 

It  was  half  an  hour  before  Mrs.  Tregaskiss  and  her  hus- 
band returned.  She  looked  veiy  pale  and  her  eyes  shone 
with  that  repressed  fire  which  Dr.  Geneste  had  begun  to 
know  ;  but  she  walked  easily,  declared  that  her  foot  did 
not  hurt  her  at  all  now,  and  gave  no  sign  of  discomposure. 
"Baby  had  wakened,  and  they  had  been  putting  it  to 
sleep,"  she  said.  .  Tregaskiss  attended  to  her  with  a  half 
sulky  solicitude.  He  pressed  her  to  try  the  "  Leura  eye- 
opener,"  but  she  refused,  with  a  gesture  of  dislike.  She 
"was  not  fond  of  the  taste  or  smell  of  rum."  But  she 
listened  with  interest  to  Mr.  Cusack's  commendation  of  his 
wife's  concoction,  begged  for  directions  how  to  make  it, 
discussed  the  Chinese  gardener  in  relation  to  the  providing 
of  those  necessaiy  herbs,  and  was  altogether  gracious  and 
almost  talkative,  always  with  the  fixed,  far-away  smile 
which  Dr.  Geneste  had  got  to  look  for  too,  and  which  he 
associated  somehow  with  the  Sphinx  notion  and  that  of  pent 
tragedy.  The  folding  doors  between  the  dining-  and  draw- 
ing-rooms were  open,  and  in  the  latter  some  desultory 
music  was  going  on.  There  was  romping,  too,  among  the 
younger  set — the  boys,  Minnie,  Miss  Law  ford,  and  the  gen- 
tlemen from  the  bachelors'  quarters.  If  Mrs.  Tregaskiss 


118  MRS.   TREGASKISS. 

suggested  the  Sphinx,  the  governess  had  certainly  a  touch 
of  the  Maenad.  She  was  excited,  voluble,  and  eager  to 
attract  notice.  Her  big  black  eyes  rolled  hither  and 
thither,  and  her  white  teeth  flashed  in  continual  laughter 
from  between  red  lips.  Dr.  Geneste  mentally  classed  her 
as  of  the  hysterical  temperament.  Perhaps,  he  thought,  she 
was  trying  to  pique  the  land  commissioner  into  a  proposal, 
by  a  flirtation  with  Tregaskiss,  upon  which  the  presence  of 
his  wife  made  it  impossible  to  place  an  evil  construction. 
Clare's  husband  had  sauntered  into  the  group,  and  was  pay- 
ing attention  to  the  governess  with  demonstrative  candour. 
One  of  the  young  men  played  a  Highland  schottische, 
which  Tregaskiss  and  Miss  Law  ford  danced  with  fervid 
interlacing  of  arms,  and  looks  which  freely  incited  and 
freely  gave  back  admiration.  The  dance  seemed  unduly 
prolonged.  Clare  watched  it  stonily.  Mrs.  Cusack 
h'dgetted  with  annoyance. 

"  Really,"  she  murmured  crossly,  "  Miss  Lawford  allows 
her  spirits  to  run  away  with  her.  I  don't  think  I  can  allow 
this  kind  of  thing  to  go  on.  It's  such  a  pity  that  she 
should  be  so  flighty.  She  teaches  admirably,  and  when 
there  are  no  gentlemen  about  is  quite  sensible  and  well- 
behaved,  and  a  cheerful  companion  to  the  children.  I  sup- 
pose that,  as  it's  your  husband,  my  dear,  she  thinks  herself 
safe  ;  but  still  there  are  limits.  And  then,  there's  my 
Martin,  I  begin  to  see,  quite  ready  to  make  a  fool  of  him- 
self and  to  be  jealous  of  Mr.  Walford  or  anybody  else  she 
encourages." 

Mr.  Walford  was  the  land  commissioner.  He  was  stand- 
ing in  the  doorway,  a  pained  expression  upon  his  stolid 
face.  Martin  was  glowering  in  a  corner  of  the  drawing- 
room.  Clare  laughed  softly.  "Oh,  why  shouldn't  they 
enjoy  themselves  ?  "  she  said. 

"No,  my  dear;  you  wouldn't  approve  if  you  had  girls 
growing  up  ready  to  follow  a  bad  example.  I  hope  Mr. 
Tregaskiss  won't  be  offended  if  I  give  him  a  hint." 


LIGHT   OX  THE  TRAGEDY.  119 

Mrs.  Cusack  marched  determinedly  forward. 

"  There's  too  much  romping  in  here  for  my  taste,"  she 
said.  "  Miss  Lawford,  I  think  we  have  had  enough  of  that 
noisy  dance.  Mr.  Tregaskiss,  you  look  quite  out  of  breath, 
and  you'll  be  scandalising  the  bishop,  you  know.  No,  don't 
be  cross,  Mr.  Blanchard,  I'm  not  going  to  chaff  any  more  ; 
you  are  behaving  very  nicely  and  I'm  glad  to  see  that  you 
are  entertaining  Miss  Selina  Ocock.  Minnie,  it's  your  bed- 
time. And  there's  Mrs.  Carmody  coughing  again.  That's 
right,  Dr.  Geneste,  make  her  go  off  too.  Miss  Lawford, 
you'll  see  Mrs.  Carmody  to  her  room  and  take  care,  please, 
that  she  has  everything  she  wants.  Where's  Helen  ?  Oh, 
Mr.  Gillespie,  do  go  and  find  Helen,  and  get  her  to  come 
and  play  an  accompaniment  for  Mr.  Blanchard.  We  should 
so  enjoy  one  of  Mr.  Blanchard's  nice  English  songs." 

Mrs.  Cusack  fussed  round  setting  everything  to  rights. 
Mr.  Blanchai'd  came  unwillingly  out  of  the  corner  where 
he  had  been  confiding  his  woes  to  the  limp  Miss  Ocock. 
Helen  had  been  talking  to  the  secretary  of  the  Pastoralist 
Committee,  and  now  came  in  from  the  veranda  and  sat 
down  to  the  piano.  Mrs.  Cusack,  in  her  managing  fashion, 
settled  the  rest  of  the  party  in  squatters' chairs  and  ordered 
the  gentlemen  to  smoke.  Tregaskiss  sulkily  approached 
his  wfe  and  grumbled  about  "  confounded  interference 
just  when  people  were  beginning  to  enjoy  themselves." 
Tosti's  "  Good-b}re  "  floated  out  into  the  fragrant  night. 
Mr.  Blanchard  had  a  good  voice,  and  it  had  been  fairty 
trained,  probably  among  musical  sisters  at  home.  Clare 
used  to  hear  that  song  in  old  days,  sung  by  a  handsome 
professional  tenor  who  had  been  in  love  with  Gladys 
Warraker.  But  Gladys  had  not  cared  for  the  tenor 
"  unutterably,"  as  she  had  phrased  her  idea  of  the  sacra- 
mental passion,  and  had  preferred  to  make  a  prudent  alli- 
ance with  rich,  elderly  Mr.  Hilditch.  The  memory  of 
Gladys  set  Clare  thinking  of  by-gone  days — of  that  phase 
of  her  girl-life  in  which  she  had  dreamed  dreams,  and 


120  MRS.   TREGASKISS. 

which  seemed  now,  in  contrast  with  the  crude  realities  of 
Australian  life,  almost  like  a  v  .  lly  remembered  fairy 
story  that  had  symbolised  a  spiritual  truth.  There  was 
only  one  person  here  whom  she  felt  to  be  in  harmony  with 
that  sleeping  inner  self  that  had  discerned  truth  in  fairy 
tale.  It  was  Geneste. 

She  waked  out  of  her  reverie  as  the  song  ended.  Tregas- 
kiss  had  gone,  Dr.  Geneste  was  beside  her.  She  had  a 
fancy  that  he  read  her  thoughts.  "  I  am  going  to  slip  away 
to  my  room,"  she  said.  "  I  am  very  tired.  Will  you  ex- 
plain to  Mrs.  Cusack,  and  perhaps "  She  looked  round. 

"  I  don't  see  my  husband.  Perhaps  you  would  kindly  tell 
him  too,  and  ask  him  to  come  to  me  as  soon  as  he  can." 

"  Certainly.     I  hope  your  foot  does  not  hurt  you  ?  " 

"  No,  thank  you." 

"  You  did  not  sprain  it,  then  ?  " 

"No."  Then  she  added  suddenly  :  "There  was  nothing 
at  all  wrong  with  it.  Good -night  !  " 

She  held  out  her  hand.  He  took  it.  "  Good-night,  Mrs. 
Tregaskiss  ! " 

She  passed  her  husband  as  she  moved  along  the  veranda. 
He  was  stumbling  across  the  ledge  of  the  dining-room 
window,  moving  in  rather  furtive  fashion. 

"  Keith  !  "  She  followed  him  into  the  room.  He  turned 
angrily  upon  her.  Geneste  was  near  enough  to  hear  what 
passed. 

"  I'm  going  to  bed,  Keith.     Will  you  soon  come  along  ?  " 

"No!  WlnT  should  I?  Going  to  have  'nother  dance  with 
— little  governess.  Confoundedly  thirsty.  I  say,  where's 
that  stuff  ?  " 

He  spoke  thickly.  Geneste  admired  Mrs.  Tregaskiss' 
tact  and  self-control. 

"  I  think  they've  cleared  it  away.  Come,  never  mind 
it.  If  you  are  thirsty,  there's  some  brandy  in  the  flask 
in  my  room,  and  Claribel  will  run  for  cool  water  from  the 
bag  in  the  veranda." 


LIGHT   OX  THE  TRAGEDY.  121 

"  You're  telling  me  lies."  Tregaskiss  spoke  with  half 
tipsy  solemnity.  "I  know  what  it  is,  you  want  to  get  me 
off  ;  you're  jealous.  I've  got  to  have  that  out  with  you. 

Jealous  of  the  little  governess  !  I  shan't  allow  any  d d 

prying  and  meddling,  do  you  understand  ?  " 

Clare  said  nothing  ;  she  did  not  even  look  at  him  ;  it 
seemed  to  Geneste  that  her  strange  smile  scarcely  faded  ; 
it  was  always  there,  as  if  carved  in  marble.  Her  whole 
form  braced  itself  as  if  stiffened  with  iron  ;  she  turned 
her  back  on  him  and  walked  quickly  to  her  own  room. 

"  Good  God  !  "  murmured  Geneste  to  himself.  "  So 
that's  the  trouble  !  " 

He  kept  close  to  Tregaskiss  for  the  rest  of  the  evening  ; 
played  boon  companion  to  htm  ;  guarded  him  from  Mrs. 
Cusack's  sallies  ;  interposed  suavely,  when  a  bragging 
speech  of  Mr.  Cusack's  threatened  to  provoke  a  quarrel  ; 
deferred  to  Tregaskiss'  opinions,  silencing  him  by  acquies- 
cence ;  sat  beside  him  later,  when  the  ladies  had  gone  and 
the  pipes  were  refilled,  and  the  brandy  passed  round  ;  and 
at  last  conveyed  him,  cleverly  covering  the  retreat  by  way 
of  the  orange  grove,  to  the  door  of  Mrs.  Tregaskiss'  chamber. 

Tregaskiss  fumbled  with  the  handle,  unable  to  turn  it. 
Then  he  swore  huskily  and  called  to  his  wife  to  open. 
When  she  did  so  he  reeled  against  the  wall  and  hiccoughed 
an  apology.  She  stood  a  straight,  tragic  figure  in  her 
white  dressing-gown.  Not  one  word  passed  her  lips. 
She  put  out  her  hand,  the  thin  arm,  full  of  nervous  force, 
showing  from  out  her  loose  sleeve,  and  drew  her  husband 
into  the  room.  Whert  she  came  back  to  close  the  window, 
she  saw  Geneste. 

"  I  thought  it  best  to  see  him  safe,"  he  said.  "  Can  I  do 
anything  ?  " 

"No  ;  nothing,  thank  you." 

"You  are  all  right?"  he  asked  anxiously. 

"  Yes.  You  are  very  kind.  Please  tell  me — I  hope 
there  was  nothing — nothing  unpleasant  ?  " 


122  MRS.   TKEGASKISS. 

"  No  ;  it  was  not  noticeable.  We  have  been  together 
since  you  left.  I  saw  how  it  was — the  heat,  no  doubt,  and 
the  long  drive  in  the  sun." 

"  Yes.  Last  year  he  had  a  touch  of  sunstroke  ;  it  has 
been  worse  since  then." 

"  All,  that  accounts.  Don't  fret  about  it,  Mrs.  Tregaskiss. 
Let  us  talk  it  over  to-morrow.  I  may  be  able  to  do 
something." 

"  No,  not  to-morrow.  I  am  not  fit — here — to  tell  you 
things.  Perhaps  when  you  come  to  Mount  Wombo." 

There  was  stertorous  muttering  within,  a  groping,  and 
the  sound  of  a  dull,  soft  fall.  Tregaskiss,  fuddled  witli 
drink,  had  flung  himself,  dressed  as  he  was,  heavily  across 
the  bed.  The  baby  was  in  a  cot  on  the  side  where  his  head 
lay.  The  inert  creature  was  already  in  a  state  of  drunken 
torpor. 

"Can't  I  get  him  into  his  dressing-room?"  Geneste 
said.  The  coarse,  squalid  reality  of  the  situation  struck 
him  with  the  grimmest  sense  of  pathos. 

"  There's  no  bed  there.     It  doesn't  matter." 

"  But  3rou — where  are  you  going  to  sleep?" 

"  It  doesn't  matter.  I  shall  lie  on  the  sofa.  Please  go. 
I  am  afraid  of  baby  waking." 

He  was  reluctant.  "  Please  go,"  she  repeated.  There 
was  nothing  to  be  done.  As  he  moved  away,  she  said  in 
a  very  low  voice,  but  clear  in  its  fervour.  "  Thank  you  ! 
I  know  I  can  trust  you." 

He  himself  was  lodged  in  the  bachelors'  quarters.  He 
came  out  again  under  pretence  of  smoking  a  pipe,  and 
spent  half  the  night  in  the  orange  grove.  A  light  burned 
nearly  all  the  time  in  Mrs.  Tregaskiss'  room.  At  last  it 
was  put  out,  and  he  went  awaj'.  But  he  lay  awake  till 
morning,  picturing  her  sitting  there  in  her  white  dressing- 
gown  watching  the  sodden  sleep  of  her  husband,  or  else 
stilling  his  babe  and  hers  at  her  breast.  It  was  horrible. 


CHAPTER  XI. 

MOUNT   WOMBO. 

MRS.  TREGASKISS  was  at  home.  The  home  was  typically 
Australian.  Imagine  a  clearing  in  gidia  scrub — this,  the 
border  of  a  greater  scrub,  stretching  along  at  the  back  and 
sloping  upward  to  the  low-lying  range  from  which  Mount 
Wombo  takes  its  name,  for  a  very  little  hill  becomes  a  moun- 
tain in  these  flat  lands.  The  scrub  spread  down  to  a  plain, 
shaping  itself  into  ragged  slips  like  an  uneven  fringe. 
There  was  a  lagoon  at  the  foot  of  the  hill,  round  it  a  few 
bigger  trees  ;  and  some  blacks  were  disporting  themselves 
in  the  water.  Not  very  far  from  the  lagoon  stood  a  rough 
stockyard,  with  the  inevitable  flock  of  carrion  crows,  and 
the  sickly  growth  of  "  fat-hen "  by  the  milking  bails. 
Further  still,  set  in  the  clearing,  which  has  four  avenues 
debouching  from  it  through  the  gidia  scrub,  there  was  a 
low,  zinc-roofed  house  of  sawn  planks,  the  zinc  sheets 
raised  a  little  above  an  under  roof  of  bark, — as  is  the 
way  in  this  parched  land, — so  the  air  may  pass  between 
and  temper  the  scorching  heat  given  out  on  summer  days 
from  the  glaring  iron.  Building-wood  is  scarce  in  the  Leura 
region,  for  the  melancholy  gidia  scrubs  do  not  provide 
suitable  material  ;  and  labour  and  carriage  are  dear  ;  thus 
shingles,  and  very  often  flooring-boards,  are  unknown  lux- 
uries. They  were  so  in  the  greater  part  of  the  Tregaskiss' 
house,  the  floor  in  most  of  the  rooms  being  of  a  kind  of 
earthen  cement  made  from  pounded  ant-beds — those  min- 
iature clay  mountains  along  the  tracks,  which  are  a  fea- 
ture of  the  district.  The  low  house  had  verandas,  with 
rough  posts  and  bough-shades,  covered  by  passion  vine  and 
9  123 


124  MRS.   TREGASKISS. 

native  cucumber.  To  the  right  was  a  big  room  perched 
upon  piles,  with  a  veranda  all  round.  Under  it  is  the 
dairy,  a  battened-in  corner,  the  rest  of  the  space  lying 
open  and  used  as  a  shelter  for  the  station  buggy,  and  also 
as  a  workshop,  with  a  carpenter's  table  and  saddling  tools, 
and  with  saddles  and  harness  lying  about  in  process  of 
re-lining.  The  upper  room  had  a  wooden  floor, — it  was 
Claire's  bedroom, — and  the  veranda,  in  which  were  canvas 
chairs,  children's  toys,  and  the  sewing-machine  in  a  shel- 
tered angle,  was  used  generally  as  the  family  sitting-room. 
Round  the  house  was  a  rough  sapling  fence  enclosing  a 
patch  of  flower-garden,  dependent  mostly  on  Clare's  min- 
istrations— the  Chinaman's  garden,  where  vegetables  and 
watermelons  and  maize  and  the  luzerne  crop  were  grown, 
being  down  by  the  lagoon,  and  Li  Hong  not  concerning 
himself  about  such  frivolous  things  as  flowers.  But  there 
were  flowers  in  the  garden,  neverthless — petunia  and  flox 
and  verbena  and  flaring  gladiolas  and  the  flame-coloured 
bignonia  ;  and  there  were,  besides,  a  loquat  tree  and 
a  Brazilian  cherry,  and  two  or  three  }"oung  orange 
trees. 

At  the  back  stood  bark-roofed  outhouses — the  meat 
store  with  bullock  hides  stretched  out  on  the  roof  to  dry, 
the  store,  and  the  kitchen,  which  had  its  bough-shade  too 
— these  outbuildings  not  trim  and  taut  like  the  back  prem- 
ises at  Brinda  Plains,  but  slanting,  untidy,  unfenced,  rank 
brown  grass  growing  where  it  would,  the  few  stunted 
gidias  and  sandal-wood  left  by  the  clearers  showing  scant, 
dried-up  foliage,  the  unlovely  corrugated  roofs  sending 
out  a  blinding  glare.  The  kangaroo  dogs  yapped  discon- 
tentedly; a  couple  of  black  gins,  their  pickaninnies  playing 
close  by,  were  peeling  potatoes  in  the  open  and  scattering 
the  shavings  to  a  brood  of  lean  fowls.  No,  there  was 
nothing  poetic,  nothing  picturesque,  about  Mrs.  Tregas- 
kiss'  home. 

A  fit  of  repentance  and  of  reactionary  good  humour  had 


MOUNT  WOMBO.  125 

followed  Tregaskiss'  excess  at  B  rind  a  Plains.  Clare  had 
met  the  situation  stoically,  and  while  their  visit  lasted, 
ignored  tlie  possibility  of  its  having  been  grasped  by  the 
Cusacks.  But  her  humiliation  was  intense.  She  showed 
herself  to  be  not  a  great  woman  in  her  susceptibility  to 
the  stabs  of  wounded  pride.  To  be  pitied  by  the  common 
herd  was  gall  to  her  ;  the  baring  of  her  secret  wounds, 
agony.  She  avoided  Dr.  Geneste, — he  left  the  next  after- 
noon,— but  something  in  her  eyes  and  voice,  when  she 
"  hoped  that  they  should  see  him  soon  at  Mount  Wombo," 
told  him  that  her  confidence  was  but  delayed.  She  did 
not  resent  his  knowledge  of  her  trouble,  but  she  bitterly 
and  unreasonably  resented  what  she  saw  to  be  Helen's 
instinctive  understanding  of  it  and  sympathy  with  herself. 
Helen  hung  on  all  day  to  Mrs.  Tregaskiss,  and  longed  to 
tell  her  of  her  admiration  and  how  sorry  she  was  for  her, 
and  that  she  despised  Keith  Tregaskiss,  and  hated  Miss 
Lawford  for  having  drawn  him  on  to  make  a  fool  of  him- 
self. Helen  was  so  sad  herself  just  now,  that  it  seemed 
appropriate  for  her  to  sympathise  with  another  sad  woman. 
Reflections  on  Mrs.  Tregaskiss'  position  led  her  into  seri- 
ous thoughts  on  marriage  in  general.  She  had  had  one 
passionate  impulse  of  pique  prompting  her  to  engage  her- 
self to  Harold  Gillespie,  and  thus  prove  to  Dr.  Geneste 
that  there  was  at  least  another  man  who  valued  her.  But 
the  impulse  did  not  last.  She  acknowledged  that  her 
Lancelot  was  not  impeccable  ;  he  had  had  no  right  to 
play  with  her,  to  take  her  in  his  arms  and  let  her,  for  an 
instant,  believe  that  he  loved  her.  But,  at  all  events,  lie 
had  been  true  and  frank  to  her  that  evening;  and  his 
friendship  and  respect  were  something  still  to  live  for. 
Better  love  on  even  "  in  vain,"  her  nature  ennobled  by  a 
real  emotion,  than  debase  herself  to  the  level  of  a — Miss 
Lawford  !  For  the  moment  she  spent  her  contempt  and 
indignation  upon  the  governess  and  upon  Clare's  hus- 
band. In  justice,  it  must  be  said  that  Tregaskiss  rarely 


126  MRS.   TREGASKISS. 

exceeded  in  such  a  manner  as  to  make  himself  conspicuous. 
He  was  the  kind  of  drinker  who  "  nips  "  all  day,  but  who 
would  angrily  disclaim  the  imputation  of  being  a  drunk- 
ard. Of  course  he  was  not  a  drunkard  !  He  had  had  a 
touch  of  the  sun,  and  couldn't  stand  up  to  liquor  as  he 
used — this  was  how  he  would  put  it  to  himself.  And  that 
same  touch  of  the  sun  made  him  feel  the  need  of  constant 
stimulant.  He  ran  down  ;  he  couldn't  manage  the  long 
hot  days  without  some  sort  of  sustainment  ;  his  brain 
needed  excitement  to  keep  it  moving.  Life  was  deadly 
monotonous  on  the  Leura.  The  bank  held  him  too  tight 
to  allow  of  his  gambling  much  in  mining  shares  and  so 
forth.  Drought  and  dying  cattle  might  well  drive  a  fel- 
low to  drown  his  cares.  He  knew  that  a  glass  beyond  the 
justifiable  quantity  made  him  irritable,  and  Clare  wasn't 
half  the  companion  she  had  once  been.  Even  her  ridicu- 
lous fancies  had  been  amusing  when  she  had  opened  out 
to  him,  but  she  never  did  that  now.  She  had  grown  dull. 
Who  could  ever  dream  that  this  silent,  stand-off  woman 
had  been  the  brilliant  Miss  Gardyne  of  Queen's  Gate  days? 
They  had  been  ten  years  married,  and  a  man,  he  told  him- 
self, got  to  feel  by  that  time  the  want  of  a  little  variety. 
It  was  a  mistake  to  tie  one's  self  up  too  soon,  and  ruin  all 
one's  best  years.  Well,  anyhow,  they  had  jogged  along 
so  far,  and  he  supposed  they  Avould  jog  on  to  the  end  of 
the  chapter.  He'd  have  a  spree  down  in  Sydney  or  Mel- 
bourne as  soon  as  things  looked  up,  and  come  back  to  her 
fresh  and  good-tempered.  The  rough  had  to  be  taken 
with  the  smooth,  in  marriage  as  well  as  in  Australian 
squatting ;  and  the  rough  wasn't  all  on  Clare's  side. 
After  all,  he  had  acted  heroically  in  marrying  her  under 
the  conditions  !  Poor  Clare  !  She  had  so  generously  in- 
sisted on  this  fact  in  the  early  times  that  he  accepted  it  as 
no  longer  a  matter  of  controversy.  This  was  how  Tregas- 
kiss  argued  to  himself. 

He  was  down  in  the  workshed  now,  tinkering  at  saddles, 


MOUNT  WOMBO.  127 

Ning  with  him.  Every  now  and  then  Clare,  in  the  ver- 
anda above,  caught  scraps  of  their  talk. 

"  Daddy,  where's  my  hammer  ?  " 

"  Don't  know,  Ningums." 

"  Daddy,  a  big  kangaloo  came  and  the  dogs  bited 
it,  and  Tommy  George  held  it  by  the  tail,  and  mine  yan 
budgery  quick — I  wunned,"  corrected  Ning, — "  mummy 
says  I  mustn't  talk  blacks'  language, — and  I  cried,  for  the 
kangaloo  was  all  bloody.  And  mummy  came  and  beat  the 
dogs  with  a  whip.  I  don't  like  kangaloos.  Daddy,  what 
would  you  do  if  the  nasty  union  men  came  here  ?  Would 
you  shoot  them,  and  would  they  be  good  to  eat?" 

Tregaskiss'  big  laugh  grated,  as  it  alwaj^s  did,  upon  his 
wife.  It  seemed  to  her  that  it  was  only  of  late  years  he 
had  got  to  laugh  like  that — since  his  sunstroke,  as  she  put 
it.  There  was  something  a  little  vacant  in  the  laugh, 
although  it  was  consequential,  too,  and  had  in  it  a  note  of 
irritation.  That  note  of  irritation  was  at  all  times  more 
or  less  dominant  in  Tregaskiss'  whole  personality. 

The  click  of  Clare's  sewing-machine,  as  she  went  on 
with  her  work,  drowned  Ning's  prattle.  Presently  the 
queer  little  figure,  in  its  one  garment  of  summer, — a  com- 
bination overall  and  knickerbockers  of  Turkey-red, — and 
with  a  flapping  white  sunbonnet  on  its  head,  came  out  of 
the  workshop  and  joined  Claribel,  who  was  walking  with 
the  baby  up  and  down  the  lower  veranda,  within  the 
mother's  sight.  At  intervals  Clare  would  conscientiously 
turn  her  head  to  see  that  all  was  well  with  the  children, 
and  then  proceed  with  her  seam,  or  else  she  would  lean 
back  wearily  and  rest  for  a  minute  or  two  before  bending 
once  more  over  the  treadle.  She  was  looking  very  thin 
and  out  of  health,  but  she  had  been  taking  Geneste's  drops, 
and  had  not  had  another  fainting  fit  since  the  one  at  Cedar 
Hill. 

By  and  by  Tregaskiss  came  up  by  a  little  outside  stair 
connecting  the  upper  and  lower  verandas.  He  was  in 


128  MRS.   TREGASKISS. 

summer  working  garb — a  light  woollen  shirt  open  at  the 
neck,  the  sleeves  rolled  above  his  elbows,  moleskin 
breeches,  and  a  pith  hat  with  a  puggaree.  Beads  of  per- 
spiration hung  from  his  fair  moustache,  and  stood  out  upon 
his  red,  brawny  chest,  as  it  showed  between  the  folds  of 
his  shirt  where  the  collar  was  unfastened.  The  leather 
strap  around  his  waist  held  his  tobacco  pouch,  his  pistol 
holster,  watch  pouch,  and  large  knife,  lie  was  smoking 
a  short  brairwood  pipe,  much  blackened. 

"  I  want  lunch  earlier,"  he  said.  "  I  have  got  to  go 
with  rations  to  the  bore  this  afternoon.  See  about  it,  will 
you?" 

She  got  up  and  went  down  the  stairs,  along  the  other 
veranda,  and  by  a  short  gangway  to  the  kitchen— one  of 
the  rough  out-humpeys,  with  a  zinc  roof  and  a  bough- 
shade.  Tregaskiss  followed  her  to  the  head  of  the  stairs, 
and  leaned  over  the  balcony  railing  looking  out  on  the 
back  yard. 

Ah  Sin,  the  cook,  was  coming  from  the  meat  store  with 
a  dripping  piece  of  salt  beef,  which  he  had  just  taken  from 
the  cask.  He  showed  a  fat,  smiling,  yellow  face.  Ah  Sin 
was,  to  Mrs.  Tregaskiss,  one  of  the  minor  alleviations  of 
Western  life.  He  was  never  out  of  temper. 

"  Velly  well,  missee.  My  makee  quick  fire.  But  my 
word,  missee,  Englishee  woman  no  good.  That  velly  lazy. 
No  makee  beds  this  morning,  no  washee  clothes  ;  alto- 
gether 'Gusta  no  good." 

If  Ah  Sin  was  an  alleviation,  'Gusta,  the  girl  from  Port 
Victoria,  Mrs.  Tregaskiss'  only  other  servant  with  the 
exception  of  Claribel  the  half-caste,  was  distinctly  the 
reverse.  'Gusta  was  always  dirty,  always  behind  time,  and 
always  doing  that  which  she  ought  not  to  do. 

"  Look  here  !  "  called  out  Tregaskiss;  "I  expect  there  '11 
be  drovers  wanting  grub.  Those  bulls  have  come  at  last, 
and  I  hear  there's  a  mob  of  Cyrus  Chance's  camped  down 
by  the  One  Tree.  Some  of  the  men  will  be  coming  for 


MOUNT  WOMBO.  129 

rations,  and  I  shall  turn  them  off  pretty  sharp,  I  can  tell 
you.  If  tliis  drought  lasts  there  '11  be  no  end  of  travelling 
mobs  poaching  on  my  pasture,  and  I'm  not  going  to  stand 
it.  It's  like  that  beggarly  old  screw's  impudence  to  camp 
his  cattle  and  feed  them  at  my  expense." 

"  Am  I  to  give  out  all  the  rations  that  are  asked  for  ?  " 
Clare  said.  She  was  storekeeper  in  the  absence  of  the 
new  chums.  "  We  shall  run  short  of  flour  if  the  drays 
don't  come  soon." 

"  No,  if  we're  short,  tell  'em  to  do  without — unless  they 
like  to  pay  double  price.  It's  that — union,  I  suppose, 
that's  keeping  the  drays.  If  any  of  my  men  have  joined 
the  strikers,  by  the  Lord,  I'll  let  'em  have  it !  Look  sharp 
about  lunch." 

No  drovers  appeared,  after  all,  which  was  perhaps  as 
well  ;  for  when  'Gusta  had  been  hustled  through  her 
preparations  in  the  dining-room,  largely  assisted  by  her 
mistress,  she  had  to  go  off  to  the  neglected  beds  in  the 
bachelors'  quarters,  and  the  half-caste  nurse  waited  on 
husband  and  wife,  and  on  the  new  chum,  a  sly,  uncouth, 
much-mosquito-bitten  youth,  the  son  of  a  gentleman 
farmer  in  Norfolk,  who  helped  with  station  accounts,  car- 
ried rations  to  fencers,  and  stockmen,  and  people  employed 
at  the  bores,  as  the  artesian  wells  were  called,  and  learned 
what  is  called  "  colonial  experience,"  in  exchange  for  the 
privilege  of  making  himself  useful.  Gilbert  Shand  was 
a  trial,  but  Clare  was  obliged  to  own  that  he  might  have 
been  more  objectionable,  as  a  third  person  breaking  upon 
the  conjugal  tete-d-tete,  the  second  "  knockabout "  young 
man  being  nearly  always  away  at  an  out-station.  Shand 
was  not  talkative,  and  Tregaskiss'  ill  temper  he  seemed  to 
take  as  a  matter  of  course,  and  was  at  least  not  officious 
in  sympathy,  when  it  placed  Clare  in  an  uncomfortable 
position. 

Tregaskiss  was  particularly  surly  to-day.  Perhaps  he 
was  feeling  the  effect  of  comparative  abstinence.  He  had 


130  MRS.    TREGASKISS. 

refrained,  just  of  late,  from  his  morning  "  nips."  He  ate 
little,  swore  at  the  flies  and  the  heat,  groaned  over  the 
salt  beef,  abused  his  wife  for  not  inventing  some  new  way 
of  doing  up  the  eternal  junk.  He  was  sure  that  Mrs. 
Carrnody  or  Mrs.  Cusack  could  have  given  her  receipts, 
and  worried  his  pet  grievances  just  now,  the  drought  and 
the  travelling  mobs,  as  a  dog  might  worry  a  diy  bone. 
Mr.  Shand  only  aggravated  matters  by  remarking  that  it 
had  looked  like  a  storm  that  morning.  Had  he  not  learned 
yet  that  the  rising  and  passing  of  early  storm-clouds  was 
the  most  certain  sign  of  a  long-continued  drought  ?  If  it 
went  on  much  longer  the  cattle  would  be  dying  by  hun- 
dreds, starved  in  the  plains,  and  logged  in  the  mud  of 
drying  water  holes.  Mr.  Shand  added  further  fuel  in  the 
shape  of  an  ingenuous  observation  that  Cyrus  Cliance  was 
securing  himself  against  losses  by  selling  off  as  many  as 
possible  of  his  "  store  "  and  fat  cattle,  and  that  it  was  a 
pity  they  at  Mount  Wombo  had  lost  a  certain  sale  not  long 
back  through  asking  too  big  a  price.  Tregaskiss  was  in- 
furiated at  the  recollection.  It  was  like  Cyrus  Chance's 
mean,  miserly  ways  ;  always  taking  advantage  of  his 
neighbours  and  trading  on  his  money,  with  the  meat- 
preserving  people,  to  steal  a  march  on  the  other  Leura 
squatters,  and  undersell  all  who  couldn't  afford  to  send 
large  droves  to  the  southern  market.  It  was  through  such 
dirty  tricks  that  old  Cyrus  had  made  himself  a  millionaire, 
and  so  on,  and  so  on. 

Tregaskiss  got  so  excited  in  his  abuse  of  Mr.  Chance 
that  he  did  not  notice  the  dogs  barking  in  the  3rard,  or  the 
sound  of  a  step  in  the  back  veranda.  The  doors  stood 
wide  open  all  through  the  establishment,  and  visitors  had 
a  way  of  presenting  themselves  without  unnecessary  for- 
malities. Ning,  who  was  seated  opposite  the  door,  jumped 
up  with  a  cry,  and  drew  general  attention  to  a  stranger  on 
the  threshold — a  queer,  fusty  figure  of  a  man,  in  a  light 
brown  alpaca  coat  frayed  at  the  seams,  brown  breeches, 


MOUNT  WOMBO.  131 

and  an  ancient  cabbage-tree  hat.  The  man  was  Cyrus 
Chance  himself.  He  looked  all  brown  together,  for  his 
face  was  much  the  shade  of  his  coat,  and  his  little  goatee 
beard  was  grizzly-brown  to  match.  He  was  very  ugly, 
with  small  and  grotesquely  irregular  features,  smallpox- 
pitted,  shrewd,  blinking  eyes,  and  a  thin-lipped,  cynical, 
and  yet  benevolent  mouth.  His  smile  betrayed  him.  In 
spite  of  all  his  endeavours,  it  refused  to  contradict  many  a 
secret  charity  which  his  friends  could  have  discovered  in 
no  other  way.  Cyrus  Chance  was  between  sixty  and  sev- 
enty, hale  for  his  age,  though  naturally  frail.  One  shoul- 
der was  a  little  raised  above  the  other,  and  he  limped,  the 
result  of  a  fall  in  infancy.  On  the  whole  he  gave  one  the 
impression  of  a  creature  only  three  parts  human,  the  other 
elfish.  He  took  off  his  cabbage-tree  hat,  making  an  awk- 
ward bow  to  Mrs.  Tregaskiss,  while  he  addressed  her  hus- 
band without  looking  at  him.  That  was  a  peculiarity  of 
Mr.  Chance's.  He  avoided  meeting  the  eyes  of  a  person 
he  did  not  like  ;  the  world  said  in  consequence  that  he 
was  shifty  in  his  dealings,  and  always  on  the  lookout  to 
get  the  better  of  his  acquaintances.  His  voice  had  an  odd 
accent,  something  between  the  Scotch  and  the  Australian. 

"  Well,  Mr.  Tregaskiss,"  he  said,  "  I'm  thinking  there's 
truth  in  the  proverb  about  listeners  never  hearing  any 
good  of  themselves.  I'll  assure  you,  sir,  that  my  beasties 
are  close  penned  in  the  sandy  pocket  by  the  crossing, 
where  there's  not  a  blade  of  grass  if  they  wanted  it,  poor 
de'ils  !  and  we're  not  requiring  any  rations  just  now.  I'm 
obliged  to  you,  for  I  guessed  that  you'd  be  asking  a  good 
price,  and  I'd  be  a  poorer  man  this  day  if  I  hadna  always 
taken  thought  to  provide  against  contingencies  of  that 
sort.  It  was  thinking  of  Xing  that  made  me  bring  a  wee 
bag  of  hominy,  for  your  drays  won't  be  here  yet  awhile, 
I'm  thinking,  Mr.  Tregaskiss." 

Clare  had  risen.  "  That  was  very  good  bf  you,  Mr. 
Chance,"  she  said,  with  heightened  colour. 


132  MRS.   TREGASKISS. 

The  old  man  gave  her  a  contorted  smile  and  patted 
King's  bead.  Tregaskiss  had  got  up  too,  and  came  for- 
ward with  outstretched  hand  and  a  manner  of  noisy,  if 
deprecating,  cordiality. 

"How  are  you,  my  dear  sir?  Yes,  it's  the  old  story  of 
the  eavesdropper,  eh  !  Deuced  bad  luck  that  you  should 
hit  off  the  moment  like  that !  But  you  are  so  confoundedly 
prosperous  that  you  can  make  allowance  for  a  hot-headed 
fellow  down  in  the  mouth  and  worried  to  death,  so  that 
he's  ready  to  strike  out  at  whatever  comes  within  reach. 
Just  heard  of  your  travelling  mob  and  the  sale  you've 
made.  By  Jove  !  don't  I  wish  I  had  had  the  chance  ! 
Come  along  !  don't  bear  us  all  a  grudge  for  my  fit  of  ill- 
temper." 

"  No,  I  will  not  do  that,  Mr.  Tregaskiss,"  replied  the 
old  man  rather  grimly. 

"  Sit  down  and  have  some  grub,  though  it  isn't  first-class. 
I  have  to  be  off  to  the  bore  presently,  but  Clare  will  look 
after  you." 

"  I  think  I  will  not  accept  your  hospitality  in  the  way  of 
eating,  Mr.  Tregaskiss  ;  but  I  shall  be  pleased  to  have  a 
talk  with  the  mistress." 

"  Wlmt  a  rum  fellow  you  are  !  I  believe  you  have 
made  a  vow  not  to  break  bread  in  my  house.  What  did 
you  mean  by  saying  that  the  draj^s  wouldn't  be  here 
vet  awhile  ?  You've  heard  no  bad  news  about  them,  I 
hope." 

"  I  have  heard  there's  been  a  detachment  of  police  sent 
to  Ilgandah,  and  that  the  strikers  are  calling  the  men  out 
everywhere  and  threatening  to  shoot  all  teams  that  are  on 
the  road.  I  doubt  but  it  will  go  hard  with  Cusack  of 
Brinda,  and  such  of  the  squatters  'round  as  haven't  got 
themselves  too  well  liked  among  the  labour  men." 

"  I  should  say  I  was  as  popular  as  any  squatter  'round," 
observed  Tregaskiss  complacently.  "  I've  always  been 
willing  to  give  every  man  his  due,  and  what  was  fair  in 


MOUNT   WOMBO.  133 

the  way  of  a  nip  occasionally.  No,  I  shouldn't  cave  to 
stand  in  Cusack's  shoes,  but  I'm  pretty  safe  myself." 

"  Well,  I  don't  know  that  I'd  go  the  length  of  saying  as 
much  as  that,"  sardonically  remarked  the  millionaire. 
"  I'd  not  trust  mj'self  to  measure  any  man's  due  according 
to  his  own  survey,  let  alone  his  grog." 

Tregaskiss  gave  an  appreciatory  guffaw  at  the  old  man's 
humour.  He  had  in  the  meantime  poured  himself  out  a 
glass  of  spirits,  which  he  drank  standing. 

"  Not  bad,  Chance  !  not  at  all  bad  !  Well,  I  must  be 
off!  Have  a  nip,  won't  you?  I  don't  believe  all  those 
stories  about  your  being  a  teetotaler." 

"  No,  I  thank  you,"  replied  Chance,  not  corroborating 
or  contradicting  the  inference. 

"  Then  I'll  leave  you  to  the  missus.  Come  along,  Shand! 
I  hope  you  have  got  the  pack  ready  and  the  horses  in  the 
yard."  * 


CHAPTER  XII. 

OLD   CYRUS   CHANCE. 

CYRUS  CHANCE  was  the  millionaire  of  the  Leura.  No  one 
knew  how  rich  he  was.  He  had  cattle  and  sheep  stations 
scattered  over  three  colonies  ;  he  had  a  share  in  a  gold 
mine  ;  he  had  sugar  plantations  up  north  and  flour  mills 
down  south  ;  he  was  said  to  own  a  great  meat-freezing 
establishment  and  to  have  investments  in  Fiji  and  the 
South  Sea  Islands.  There  were  all  sorts  of  stories  afloat 
about  his  great  wealth  and  his  eccentric  ways.  No  doubt 
both  were  exaggerated,  but  there  was  no  doubt  that  he 
might,  had  he  chosen,  have  been  a  social  and  financial  power 
in  any  great  capital.  He  might  have  lapped  himself  in 
luxury,  might  have  drunk  the  beverages  of  emperors,  and 
feasted  at  banquets  that  would  have  satisfied  the  epicures 
of  an  older  civilisation.  He  might  have  bought  the  love 
of  women,  as  he  might  have  bought  anything  else  that 
pleased  him.  He  might  have  satiated  himself  with  all  the 
material  pleasures  of  existence  had  he  so  willed.  But  he 
did  none  of  these  things — would  not  have  known  how  to 
set  about  doing  them.  He  lived  like  a  miser,  fed  on  stock- 
man's most  frugal  fare,  wore  the  shabbiest  clothes,  and 
appeared  to  revel  in  personal  hardship.  He  avoided  even 
bush  society,  and  for  that  reason  preferred  to  bury  himself 
on  the  Leura  for  the  greater  part  of  the  year,  managing  his 
station  there,  and  having  the  name  of  driving  a  harder 
bargain  than  any  squatter  round.  It  was  told  of  him  that 
he  had  never  in  his  life  tasted  wine  or  spirits,  smoked 
tobacco,  or  kissed  a  woman  except  his  mother.  There  was 

134 


OLD  CYRUS  CHANCE.  135 

only  one  woman  it  seemed  from  whom  he  did  not  fly,  and 
that  was  Mrs.  Tregaskiss. 

He  spent  an  hour  or  two  occasionally  at  Mount  Wombo, 
and  talked  to  her  all  the  time.  He  never  came  of  set  pur- 
pose, but  made  an  excuse  to  halt  on  his  way  to  and  from 
Port  Victoria.  If  it  ever  chanced  that  he  had  to  stay  a 
night  he  camped  out.  That  was  another  of  his  peculiari- 
ties. He  would  not  sleep  under  the  roof  or  eat  the  food  of 
a  man  whom  he  disliked  ;  and  he  cordially  disliked  Keith 
Tregaskiss.  This  might  be  inferred  from  the  fact  that  he 
usually  timed  his  visits  when  the  master  of  Mount  Wombo 
was  absent. 

When  Mrs.  Tregaskiss  and  Cyrus  Chance  were  left  alone, 
she  took  him  round  by  the  front  veranda  to  her  little 
drawing-room,  begging  him  to  excuse  her  minding  baby 
while  the  half-caste  had  dinner,  and,  before  she  established 
herself  on  the  sofa  with  her  child,  made  Ning  pull  forward 
the  most  comfortable  of  the  armchairs,  and  herself  took  his 
hat  from  him. 

Ning  and  old  Cyrus  Chance  were  great  friends.  He 
generally  had  some  goodies  in  his  pocket  for  her — cheap 
store  lollipops,  but  none  the  less  acceptable  to  Ning.  She 
amused  the  old  man  with  her  queer  gabble.  He  was  well 
up  in  the  blacks'  phrases,  and  delighted  when  she  answered 
him  aptly. 

" Nja  nincla  yulurdil"  (You  are  my  love),  said  the  old 
man. 

"  Guiyungun  njali "  (We  belong  to  one  another), 
promptly  returned  Ning. 

The  old  man's  grirnness  relaxed,  he  seated  himself  and 
looked  round  with  a  grunt  of  satisfaction,  while  Ning  sang 
black  songs  to  the  baby. 

"  Now,  I  always  say,  Mistress  Tregaskiss,  that  your  sitting- 
room  is  just  an  example  of  what  can  be  done  with  nought 
but  taste  and  little  cost.  I  can't  make  it  out.  At  home 
I'm  all  heat  and  glare  and  flies,  and  whatever  I  do  there's 


136  MRS.   TREGASKISS. 

not  a  chair  that  gives  one  a  resting  feeling.  And  here,  no 
matter  how  the  sun  blazes,  it's  always  shady  and  comfort- 
able, and  not  that  abominable  swarm  of  sticky  insects  buz- 
zing round.  And  then  there's  just  an  armchair  that  nips 
one  back  in  the  right  place,  and  just  a  homey  feel  over 
everything.  Yet  I  shouldn't  say  now  that  you'd  spent  a 
ten-pound  note  on  the  room — none  of  the  Brinda  Plains 
fal-las  and  grandeur.  Lord,  I  abominate  them — and  that 
talking  woman  who  wants  to  manage  the  district  !  What 
is  it,  Mrs.  Tregaskiss,  that  makes  the  home.  Is  it  the  chil- 
dren, or  is  it  you  ?  It  aint  the  mon." 

"  It's  keeping  the  blinds  down,  Mr.  Chance,  and  fly-papers 
about,  and  it's  cushions  of  the  wild-ducks'  feathers  that 
I  bribe  the  men  to  bring  me,  and  it's  flowers  and  pho- 
tographs and  all  the  rest.  I've  got  a  new  photograph 
I  want  to  show  you — one  that  I  found  here  when  I  came 
back,  just  done  up  and  not  a  word  to  tell  me  anything 
about  the  sender,  except  that  I  suppose  from  the  dress  that 
her  husband  has  died." 

Clare  took  a  large  Mendelssohn  photograph  from  a  table 
near.  It  gave  the  suggestion  of  a  youthful,  but  chastened 
and  modern,  Mary  Stuart,  on  account,  principally,  of  the 
long,  rich  black  robe  with  hanging  sleeves, — no  doubt  Jay's 
latest  design  in  mourning  tea-gowns, — and  a  coif-like  cap 
surmounting  the  crinkly,  parted  hair,  which  Clare  had 
been  some  time  in  discovering  was  emblematic  of  matri- 
monial bereavement.  The  mixture  of  medievalism  and 
modernity,  of  suffering  and  frivolity,  and  of  coquetry 
combined  with  a  certain  spirituality  gave  the  picture  a 
peculiar  fascination. 

Mr.  Chance  examined  it  carefully,  holding  it  away  from 
his  eyes  and  then  close  to  them,  putting  it  down  and  taking 
it  up  again  as  if  he  were  loth  to  turn  from  it. 

"  That's  a  curious  face,"  he  said  at  last.  "  I've  never 
seen  one  in  a  picture  like  it.  It  makes  me  think  of  '  Fair 
Ines.'  " 


OLD  CYRUS  CHANCE.  137 

"  Fair  Ines  !  "  Clare  repeated,  in  some  surprise.  She  bad 
not  imagined  that  Mr.  Chance  would  know  anything  about 
Hood's  poem. 

He  repeated  softly  with  his  uncultured  intonation  : 

"  '  Oh,  saw  ye  not  Fair  Ines  ? 
She's  gone  into  the  west 
To  dazzle  when  the  sun  is  down 
And  rob  the  world  of  rest,' " 

and  added  :  "  You'll  think  it  queer,  perhaps,  Mistress  Tre- 
gaskiss,  that  an  old,  stingy,  deformed  bushman  like  me 
should  have  any  romantic  notions  about  heroines,  of  novels 
and  poetry  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know,"  Claire  answered.  "I  fancied  somehow 
that  you  didn't  go  in  much  for  reading.  I  don't  know 
why." 

"  What  else  should  you  fancy.  I've  never  bad  any  educa- 
tion. I  was  a  working-lad  that  ran  away  from  home,  and 
I've  toiled  with  the  sweat  of  my  brow  for  all  I've  got 
together.  But  I  wull  say,  mistress,  that  we  bushmen  owe  a 
debt  of  gratitude  to  the  Chambers  firm  for  their  spread  of 
cheap  literature.  Where  would  I  have  been  to  start  with 
if  it  hadn't  been  for  'Chambers's  Information  for  the 
People.' " 

"  And  the  heroines,  Mr.  Chance  ?  " 

"  Not  the  ones  in  novels,"  returned  Chance  decidedly. 
"  I  never  wanted  nought  to  do  with  them — they  were  a  poor, 
fainting,  whimpering  lot.  It's  the  woman  in  the  bit  songs, 
and  lines  of  poetry  with  a  tune  on  them  going  straight  to 
the  heart  that  fetched  me  ;  and  Fair  Ines  was  one  of  those. 
I  read  a  sort  of  an  essay  by  a  very  clever  man,  though  I 
doubt  me  lie's  misguided  in  his  politics,  in  Scribner's 
Magazine  the  other  day.  It  was  called  '  Three  Dream 
Heroines,'  and  one  was  Sally  in  our  Alley,  the  nice,  honest, 
homely  thing  that  I'd  have  found  a  touch  feckless  and  silly, 
I'm  thinking  ;  and  another  was  Annabel  Lee — who  died 


138  MRS.   TREGASKISS. 

young,  and  I'm  thinking,  too,  that  if  she  had  lived  to  keep 
house,  he  mightn't  have  set  such  store  by  her.  And  then 
there  was  Fair  Ines,  who  don't  come  into  the  list  of  women 
at  all,  somehow.  She's  the  queen  of  another  world,  and 
she's  just  the  embodiment  of  all  one  ever  dreamed,  and  told 
nobody — a  creature  to  be  dazzled  by,  but  not  to  be  made 
afeared  of — she's  too  kind  and  gracious  and  winsome  for 
that;  who'd  ride  along  and  smile,  and  smile,  and  make  the 
heai't  of  man  glad  for  no  more  than  having  looked  upon 
her  face.  Not  an  angel ;  oh,  no,  Mistress  Tregaskiss,  I 
don't  hold  by  angels — not  in  this  world,  anyhow.  Salt 
junk  is  more  satisfjdng  than  pickled  saints.  But  just  Fair 
Ines  ! " 

"  And  you've  never  seen  a  real  '  Fair  Ines,'  Mr.  Chance  ?  " 

"  ^^Tell,  Mistress  Tregaskiss,  you  yourself  are  the  nearest 
approach  to  Fair  Ines  I've  come  across  yet  ;  but  Fair  Ines 
wouldn't  have  married  Keith  Tregaskiss  and  settled  down 
on  the  Leura." 

A  rush  of  emotion  overpowered  her.  "  Oh,  how  you 
understand  me  !  "  she  cried,  and  impulsively  put  out  her 
hand  to  him.  But  the  queer  old  man  did  not  take  it.  He 
only  leaned  back  in  his  chair  and  looked  at  her  with  his 
blinking  eyes  and  his  odd  smile,  and  then,  without  saying  a 
word,  deliberately  took  out  a  red  bandanna,  folded  it  in  four, 
and  blew  his  nose  with  it  so  loudly  that  the  baby  gave  a 
feeble  cry.  Clare  laughed  outright,  almost  hysterically. 

"  I  wonder,"  she  said  presently,  "  if  you'll  ever  see 
Gladys." 

"  Gladys  !  " 

"  That's  the  lady  whose  photograph  I  showed  you  ;  she 
was  a  friend  of  mine  long  before  I  was  married.  I  have 
not  seen  her  for  eleven  years.  She  married,  herself — an 
old  man,  who,  I  suppose,  is  dead,  and  Gladys  is  rich — and 
free." 

"I  don't  want  to  see  her,"  said  Mr.  Chance,  "if  she 
married  an  old  man  for  his  monev." 


OLD  CYRUS  CHANCE.  139 

"  No,  no,"  put  in  Clare.  "  She  was  very  fond  of  him  ; 
and  I  heard  that  she  nursed  him  devotedly." 

"  I  wouldn't  cross  a  log  to  see  a  woman,"  pursued  Mr. 
Chance.  "  Why,  no,  I  rather  think  I'd  swim  a  dozen  creeks 
to  get  away  from  her." 

He  used  his  bandanna  again,  more  gently,  and  resumed 
his  study  of  Clare's  drawing-room. 

"  It  didn't  run  to  a  ten-pound  note,  now,  did  it?" 

"  I  don't  suppose  it  did.  Keith  papered  the  walls  and 
made  the  little  tables." 

"  Did  he  now  ?  "  There  was  a  note  of  incredulity  in  the 
old  man's  voice.  "  Well,  I  shouldn't  have  suspected  he'd 
take  that  trouble  for  ye.  It  must  have  been  a  long  time 
ago." 

"  It  was  soon  after  we  married."  Clare  laughed  again. 
"  The  reason  why  we  are  so  smart  is  because  I  brought 
some  red  cloth  and  art  muslin  from  Port  Victoria,  and  Mr. 
Shand  helped  me  to  furbish  things  up  a  bit." 

The  old  man  gave  her  a  nod  of  approbation.  "  Well,  your 
a  fine  economical  housewife,  Mistress  Tregaskiss  ;  and  it 
'ud  be  a  pleasure  to  a  body  to  save  for  you.  There's  but 
poor  joy  to  me  in  thinking  of  those  that  count  on  coming 
after  me — my  brother's  children,  with  their  airs  and 
graces  and  flash  ways.  I'm  sorry  your  not  my  kin." 

"  I'm  sorry  too,  Mr.  Chance." 

It  did  not  seem  to  occur  to  the  millionare  that  want  of 
kinship  was  not  necessarily  a  bar  to  the  desire  which  had 
dimly  presented  itself  to  his  imagination.  There  was  a 
silence,  during  which  he  gazed  at  Clare,  now  occupied 
with  the  aroused  infant. 

"So  that's  the  youngster!"  said  Cyrus  Chance.  "A 
girl  too  !  What  did  you  go  and  have  her  for?  It's  a 
mistake." 

"Yes,  I  think  it  is,"  answered  Clare  gravely. 

"  What's  the  good  of  making  another  leg-rope  to  keep 
you  bailed  up  in  your  pen  here.  That's  what  children  are 
10 


140  MRS.   TREGASKISS. 

— nought  but  leg-ropes.  Look  at  the  Carraod}rs.  He 
might  strike  out  and  say  'Bo'  to  the  bank  ;  and  she  could 
go  teaching,  or  charing,  or  into  a  hospital,  if  it  wasn't  for 
those  bairnies.  Do  ye  give  the  creature  the  breast  ?"  he 
added,  with  abrupt  directness. 

"I  did  for  a  little  while,  but  I'm  not  strong  enough." 

Cyrus  Chance  gave  a  grunt.  "  You're  wrong,  mistress  ; 
it's  an  outlet.  There's  woman's  feelings  that  'ull  flow  in 
mother's  milk  ;  and  that,  when  they're  kept  corked,  are  apt 
to  go  sour  and  sickly,  and  prove  pernicious  to  the  system.  If 
you  were  my  daughter, — and  thank  the  Lord  !  I've  not  got 
a  daughter, — I'd  say  to  you  :  '  Nurse  your  babies,  and  turn 
'em  into  blessings,  more-like  than  curses.'  Besides, 
mother's  milk  is  soothing  to  heart  wounds,  and  has  a 
sovereign  virtue.  I've  found  that  out  for  all  that  I'm  a 
bachelor  and  a  woman-hater.  D'ye  think  I'm  an  old  fool, 
now,  Mistress  Tregaskiss  ?  " 

"  I  think  you  are  a  very  wise  man,"  said  Clare,  with  a 
break  in  her  voice  ;  "  and  you  are  very  good  to  me." 

"  Well,  never  mind.  I've  brought  a  present  for  you — 
thinking  of  the  baby.  It's  in  my  pack,  outside,  with 
the  hominy  for  Ning.  If  ye'll  permit  me,  I'll  go  and  fetch 
it  in." 

He  stopped  at  the  door,  and  addressed  her  solemnly  : 

"  Look  ye  here,  Mistress  Tregaskiss.  You'll  have  heard 
a  lot  of  stories  about  old  money-grubbing  Cyrus  Chance, 
and  about  his  stinginess  and  his  cranks  ;  and  some  of  these 
stories  may  be  true,  and  some  of  them  mayn't.  But  there's 
one  tale  you'll  never  have  heard,  and  never  will  hear,  for 
it  'ud  just  be  looked  upon  as  a  miracle,  right  through 
Australia.  That  is  that  old  Cyrus  Chance  ever,  in  the 
whole  course  of  his  natural  existence,  ever  gave  or  was 
likely  to  give  a  present  to  a  woman.  There  !  " 

He  did  not  wait  for  her  r.eply,  but  hobbled  out,  the  in- 
equality of  his  shape  making  his  step  uneven,  and  heighten- 
ing the  gnome-like  impression  his  appearance  somehow 


OLD   CYRUS  CHANCE.  141 

made.  Clare  laughed  on  with  a  certain  mournful  amuse- 
ment, inexpressibly  touched  the  while,  and  wondering  of 
what  his  present  might  be.  She  remembered  a  story  Mrs. 
Ctisack  had  told  her,  of  how  she,  being  secretary  for  a  sort 
of  Creche  hospital  for  the  children  of  immigrants  out  of 
work,  had  written  to  the  rich  man  of  the  district  asking  for 
a  subscription.  Mrs.  Cusack  had  recited  to  her  the  terse 
reply,  which  she  recollected  word  for  word  : 

"  MADAM  : 

"  Yours  of date  received.     Me  Children's  Hospital  : 

Can  imagine  that  immigrants'  babies  require  nursing,  but 
cannot  imagine  what  concern  that  is  of 

"Yours  faithfully, 

"  CYRUS  CHANCE." 

She  remembered,  too,  Mrs.  Cusack's  sequel  to  the  story; 
her  relation  of  how,  some  little  while  later,  an  envelope 
containing  ten  ten-pound  notes  had  been  received  by  the 
secretary  of  the  Creche,  and  generally  ascribed  to  the  re- 
pentant generosity  of  Cyrus  Chance,  though  an  unfortu- 
nate clergyman  who  had  ventured  to  thank  the  miser- 
millionaire,  when  halting  for -a  night  at  his  Leura  station, 
had  been  there  and  then  packed  out  of  the  house  for 
impertinence. 

"  It  was  exactly  like  him,"  Clare  was  saying  to  herself, 
when  the  old  man  appeared  again,  with  three  fat  black 
bottles,  red-labelled,  under  each  arm,  and  a  small  bag  of 
hominy  in  one  hand.  He  laid  the  bottles  solemnly,  one  by 
one,  down  by  the  sofa. 

"  That's  the  best  bottled  stout,  mistress,  and  I  beg  you'll 
do  me  the  favour  to  take  a  glass  when  you  feel  low.  Ye'll 
not  requii'e  it  so  much,  perhaps,  as  you're  not  nursing,  and 
if  you  cork  the  bottle  tight  and  turn  it  upside  down  the 
stuff  '11  keep." 

She  thanked  him.     He  was  not  content  till  he  had  seen 


142  MRS.   TREGASKISS. 

her  put  the  bottles  away  in  her  store-cupboard  in  the  din- 
ing-room. She  heard  incidentally,  afterward,  that  he  had 
come  round  by  Brinda  Plains  for  the  purpose  of  buying 
them  at  Cusack's  store,  and  had  haggled  for  quarter  of  an 
hour  over  the  price. 

Having  done  his  errand,  Mr.  Chance  prepared  to  depart; 
The  bellowing  of  beasts  and  cracking  of  stock  whips  was 
heard  afar  off  in  the  plain,  and  their  owner  could  not  resist 
leading  Mrs.  Tregaskiss  to  the  veranda, — whence  through 
one  of  the  gidia  clearings  she  could  see  the  red  heaving 
mass  of  cattle  as  it  passed, — and  descanting  upon  the  eco- 
nomical management  of  his  droving  operations,  and  the 
sinful  waste  of  Leura  squatters  in  general,  who  employed 
twice  as  many  "  hands "  as  were  needed,  and  did  not 
"  dodge  about "  and  surprise  their  travelling  stock  as  he 
himself  was  in  the  habit  of  doing. 

"Keeps  'em  from  taking  a  night  on  the  burst.  What's 
the  meaning  of  so  many  mobs  breaking  in  The  Grave 
pocket  ?"  he  said.  "  It  isn't  the  'possums,  and  it  isn't  the 
scrubbers  ;  it's  the  grog  shanty,  ten  miles  off,  that  does  it ; 
and  my  men  know  I'm  as  likely  as  not  to  turn  up  the  night 
they're  camped  there,  and  I  shan't  have  to  go  to  the  grog 
shanty  to  look  after  them.  They  don't  suspect  I'm  here  to- 
day— came  across  country  on  purpose.  Camped  out  last 
night  at  an  old  sheep-station  and  saved  hotel  expenses,  and 
got  supper  out  of  Cusack  for  nothing — off  the  pumpkins 
in  the  sheep  yard.  Many's  the  time  I've  camped  out,  out- 
side a  field  of  Indian  corn,  and  made  my  meal  from  green 
cobs.  That's  the  way  to  save  money,  and  to  make  money, 
Mistress  Ti'egaskiss.  It's  the  pence,  and  not  the  pounds, 
that  does  it.  There's  always  truth  in  old  saws." 

She  went  out  with  him  to  the  yard  and  saw  him  restrap 
his  valise,  a  good  deal  thinner  now  that  the  bottles  had 
been  taken  out  of  it.  He  showed  her  how  he  had  wrapped 
them  in  his  flannel  shirts  to  keep  them  from  breaking. 
"  It's  good  stuff,  Mistress  Tregaskiss — now  mind  ye  take  a 


OLD   CYRUS   CHANCE.  143 

sup  when  ye're  low,"  was  his  parting  admonition,  and  he 
rode  off,  as  proud  and  pleased  with  his  genei'osity  as 
though  he  had  handed  her  the  bank  acquittance  of  Tre- 
gaskiss'  debt — which,  indeed,  he  might  have  done,  she 
thought  whimsically  to  herself,  with  even  less  incon- 
venience than  the  buying  of  those  six  bottles  had  cost  him. 

Two  men  of  disagreeable  aspect,  whom  she  had  not  be- 
fore noticed,  were  loitering  about  the  fence.  They  were 
on  foot,  and  explained  that  they  had  left  their  horses  with 
a  black  boy,  were  bound  for  Port  Victoria,  and  wanted  to 
buy  rations.  The  elder,  and  evidently  more  important  of 
the  two,  was  a  rakish,  determined-looking  person,  dressed 
like  a  stockman  in  shabby  boots  and  dirty  shirt  and  riding 
breeches;  and  yet,  Clare  felt  sure,  not  a  stockman.  He  did 
not  speak  uncivilly,  but  there  Avas  something  furtive  in  his 
expression,  and  she  did  not  like  the  way  his  eyes  wandered 
about,  as  if  he  were  taking  stock  of  everything,  and  wished 
that  Keith  or  Mr.  Shand  was  at  home,  or  that  she  had  kept 
Cyrus  Chance  a  little  longer. 

"  I  am  sorry,"  she  said,  in  answer  to  the  man's  request 
for  rations,  "  but  we  are  short  of  flour  ourselves,  our  drays 
having  been  delayed.  Mr.  Tregaskiss  is  not  at  home,  and 
I  could  not  let  you  have  any  during  his  absence." 

"  Oh,  the  drays  have  been  deLrved  !  "  repeated  the  elder 
man,  exchanging  a  glance,  which  Clare  did  not  like  either, 
with  his  companion.  "  But  I  suppose  you  are  not  short  of 
meat,  ma'am,  and  that  you  can  let  us  have  a  ration  of  junk  ? 
We've  got  money  to  pay  for  it." 

"  I  can  let  you  have  some  meat,"  she  answered.  "  Wait 
till  I  get  the  key  of  the  store." 

She  went  into  the  kitchen  and  called  Ah  Sin  to  come  and 
weigh  the  meat  for  her,  but  Ah  Sin  had  chosen  the  oppor- 
tunity to  pay  a  visit  to  his  brother  Chinaman  at  the  garden 
by  the  lagoon,  and  'Gusta,  too,  was  nowhere  to  be  found. 
Clare  delayed  indoors  a  little  while,  hoping  that  somebody 
might  come  back,  but  no  one  came  ;  and  when  she  went  out 


144  MRS.   TREGASKISS. 

again,  the  men  looked  impatient  and  angry.  They  came  to 
meet  her  at  the  veranda. 

"I  believe  you've  got  plenty  of  tobacco  in  the  store?" 
the  elder  man  said,  with  a  touch  of  insolence  in  his  tone. 
"  We  should  be  glad  of  a  fig  or  two." 

"  I  am  not  sure." 

Clare  began  to  feel  frightened  of  the  men,  and  wondered 
if  they  could  be  strikers,  or  perhaps  bushrangers — though 
these  were  not  as  yet  known  on  the  Leura  ;  and  what  she 
should  do  if  they  had  threatened  her.  How  had  they  found 
out  there  was  tobacco  in  the  store  ?  As  a  matter  of  fact, 
there  was  enough  of  everything  except  flour  and  sugar. 
She  was  a  courageous  woman,  and  not  inclined  to  knuckle 
under,  but  she  was  quite  aware  that  to  refuse  rations  in  the 
bush,  without  valid  reason,  was  to  go  against  the  Austra- 
lian conventions  of  hospitality.  On  the  whole,  she  thought 
it  would  be  wisest  to  assume  that  the  men  were  well-dis- 
posed, and  to  give  them  what  they  wanted. 

"  I  can  let  you  have  some  tobacco,"  she  answered;  and, 
walking  across  the  yard  with  a  dignity  which  had  its  effect 
upon  the  man,  for  he  made  way  for  her  and  changed  his 
aggressive  manner,  she  unlocked  a  door  near  the  kitchen, 
which  had  a  great  rusty  padlock,  and  entered  a  dim 
raftei-ed  room,  where  a  tarantula  had  his  web  in  a  corner, 
and  cockroaches  crawled  out  from  the  crevices — the  usual 
bush  store  :  cobwebby  shelves  stacked  with  groceries,  cloth- 
ing for  men,  blankets  and  saddle-lining,  drums  of  tobacco, 
kegs  of  rum,  a  bottle  or  two  of  Steven's  Red  Blister  and 
Farmers'  Friend,  and  so  on  ;  the  usual  rough  dresser  and 
scales,  and  the  bin  for  flour  which  Mr.  Shand  had  left  open, 
and  where  the  weevils  made  black  spots  upon  the  caked 
flour  in  the  corner  of  the  lid  ;  and  another  bin  with  compart- 
ments for  the  moist  black  ration  sugar,  and  for  a  lighter 
and  better  sort.  On  the  dais,  which,  after  the  arrival  of 
drays,  would  be  piled  with  bags  of  flour,  there  was  nothing 
now  but  empty  sacks  folded.  Clare  separated  and  weighed 


OLD  CYRUS  CHANCE.  145 

some  figs  of  tobacco,  which  she  handed  the  man  ;  also  a 
bottle  of  pickles  for  which  they  asked.  Then  she  took 
them  to  the  meat  store,  another  low  dark  room,  with  wire 
netting  stretched  across  the  narrow  window,  an  earthen 
floor,  and  dripping  hides  nailed  against  the  walls,  two 
large  casks  of  brine  in  which  the  meat  was  kept,  heaps 
of  coarse  salt  lying  about,  and  pieces  of  more  freshly 
salted  beef  stacked  upon  the  long  wooden  board  on  which 
the  salting  was  done.  Clare  poked  out  a  piece  of  beef  from 
one  of  the  casks,  hooked  it  on  the  rusty  steelyards,  herself 
carefully  adjusting  the  balance.  It  was  a  curious  occupa- 
tion for  a  woman  so  beautiful  and  so  refined — for  the 
admired  Miss  Gardyne  of  days  gone  by.  The  men  slouched 
against  the  door  watching  her,  and  perhaps  something  of 
this  sort  flashed  through  their  minds!  One  of  them,  at  any 
rate,  asked  respectfully  if  he  could  not  help  her.  She  let 
him  take  the  piece  of  beef  off  the  steelyards,  and  it  was  just 
then  that  a  horse's  hoofs  sounded,  and  she  had  a  vision  of 
someone  hastily  dismounting — a  gentleman  whom  she  sup- 
posed to  be  her  husband  or  Mr.  Shand  returned  from  the  bore. 

But  it  was  the  voice  of  neither  of  these  that  bade  the 
kangaroo  dogs  "  lie  down,"  and  called  out  to  one  of  the 
strangers  before  addressing  Mrs.  Tregaskiss  : 

"  Kelso,  what  are  you  doing  here  ?  " 

The  man-  sulkily  turned  and  made  a  gesture  of  recog- 
nition. "  No  harm,  Dr.  Geneste,  and  I  don't  see,  anyway, 
that  it's  your  business.  The  meat  is  eight  pounds  all  but 
an  ounce,  Mrs.  Tregaskiss,  and  there's  the  money  for  it  and 
for  the  pickles  and  tobacco." 

He  laid  a  little  heap  of  silver  and  copper  coins  beside 
the  steelyards. 

"  Stop  a  moment,"  said  Geneste.  "  I  think  that  money 
can  go  back  into  your  pouch,  and  the  meat  into  the  cask 
again.  Mrs.  Tregaskiss,  allow  me  to  settle  this  for  you." 

He  lifted  his  hat  as  he  came  to  the  meat  store  door. 

"  The  men  are  strike  delegates,  and  I'm  sure  your  hus- 


146  MRS.   TREGASKISS. 

band  wouldn't  be  pleased  at  your  serving  them  with  rations. 
Do  you  go  in.  Kelso  and  I  have  had  dealings  together 
before,  and  I've  got  a  word  to  say  to  him  now.  Stand 
back,  man,  and  let  the  lady  pass." 

Kelso  obeyed  with  a  cowed  air.  Clare,  too,  was  only  too 
glad  to  do  what  he  told  her.  He  held  the  door  for  her  to 
go  through,  flung  the  money  back  to  the  strikers,  and 
then  closed  the  door,  shutting  in  the  piece  of  beef  and  the 
tobacco  and  pickles  which  had  been  standing  on  the 
dresser,  turned  the  key  in  the  padlock,  and  then  walked 
with  Mrs.  Tregaskiss  across  the  yard,  keeping  his  hat  in 
his  hand  with  an  exaggerated  deference  that  touched  her 
to  the  quick.  She  knew  that  he  had  taken  in  the  whole 
picture  of  the  squalid  little  place,  and  of  herself  standing  by 
the  steelyards  selling  meat  to  these  horrible  men.  It  seemed 
her  fate  that  he  should  discover  her  in  humiliating  positions, 
though  in  truth  there  was  nothing  wonderful  in  his  appearing 
at  that  critical  moment.  His  visit  had  been  in  contempla- 
tion, and  expected  day  by  day,  and  this  was  the  natural  hour 
for  him  to  arrive  at  the  station.  Bush  travellers  always 
time  themselves  to  reach  their  destination  at  sundown. 

"  I  believe  those  men  are  scouts,"  he  said.  "Kelso  is  a 
bad  lot  and  at  the  root  of  all  these  labour  troubles.  I've 
no  doubt  he  knew  that  Tregraskiss  wasn't  in  the  way, 
and  I  only  wonder  he  wasn't  insolent.  I'll  pack  him  off." 

But  the  men  were  out  of  the  yard  when  he  turned  back 
to  the  meat  store.  Kelso  had  not  waited  for  an  encounter 
with  the  explorer.  Geneste,  old  bushman  as  he  was, 
unstrapped  his  valise,  took  the  saddle  from  his  horse,  and 
washed  its  back  before  turning  it  out.  There  was  not 
even  a  black  boy  to  be  seen.  Only  Ah  Sin,  in  his  white 
frock,  was  visible  halfway  down  to  the  lagoon,  his  arms 
full  of  green  stuff. 

"I'm  glad  she  has  vegetables,  at  any  rate,"  thought 
Geneste.  "My  Heavens  !  what  a  place  for  such  a  woman 
to  call  her  home  !  " 


CHAPTER  XIII. 
BLANCHARD'S  ROMANCE.* 

THE  sun  had  set  in  the  midst  of  a  thick  storm-cloud — 
those  clouds  alas  !  which  did  not  bring  the  much-needed 
rain,  and  were,  indeed,  as  Tregaskiss  had  said,  the  sure  sign 
of  a  continued  drought.  The  air  was  hot  and  heavy,  and 
insects  swarmed  in  myriads.  When  'Gusta  brought  in  the 
smoking  dish  of  corned  beef  and  summoned  the  party 
from  the  veranda  to  dinner,  Clare  moved  the  lamp  to  the 
side  table  so  that  they  might  be  able  to  eat  without  the 
risk  of  winged  and  crawling  things  dropping  into  their 
plates. 

Tregaskiss  and  Shand  had  returned  from  the  bore,  hav- 
ing fallen  in  with  Mr.  Blanchard  on  the  way.  He  was 
sent  over  from  Brinda  Plains  with  a  message  from  Mr. 
Cusack,  a  warning  that  the  union  men  were  out,  that 
there  was  a  rumour  of  a  woolshed  having  been  burned  down 
belonging  to  a  sheep-owner  beyond  Ugandan,  and  an  inti- 
mation from  the  authorities  that  each  squatter  would  be 
expected  to  keep  arms,  horses,  and  men  in  readiness  for  the 
protection  of  the  district  in  case  of  a  general  riot.  It  was 
evident  that  Mr.  Cusack,  bully  and  blusterer  as  he  was,  had 
got  into  what  Blanchard,  in  his  soft  voice  and  deliberate 
English  intonation,  called  a  blue  funk.  Tregaskiss  laughed 
and  made  light  of  danger.  To  be  sure  he  was  not  a  sheep- 
owner,  and  had  less  to  fear,  but  Clare  rejoiced  in  the 
reflection  that,  at  any  rate,  physically  speaking,  he  was  not 
a  coward.  She  thought  of  her  whimsical  fancy  under  the 
stars  of  a  Berserker  past.  The  fighting  blood  rose  in  him. 
When  he  heard  of  the  Kelso  episode  of  the  afternoon,  he 

147 


148  MRS.   TREGASKISS. 

was  infuriate  at  the  notion  that  the  labour  delegates  had 
escaped,  and  was  half  inclined  to  rise  up,  pursue,  and  smite 
them. 

"What  could  you  do?"  said  Geneste  quietly.  "They 
only  wanted  to  buy  rations — ostensibly.  You  can't  put 
them  into  chains  for  that." 

"It's  d d  unpleasant  to  have  the  brutes  skulking 

round,"  said  Tregaskiss,  in  his  rough,  outspoken  way. 

"  Extremely  unpleasant  for  your  wife,"  returned  Geneste, 
his  eyes  following  Clare  as  she  moved  about  the  dining- 
room.  "She  might  have  been  in  an  awkward  position  this 
afternoon  if  Kelso  had  shown  impertinence,"  he  went  on. 
"  Excuse  my  saying,  Tregaskiss,  that  in  these  unsettled 
times  I  think  she  ought  not  to  be  left  without  a  man  on 
the  place." 

"There  were  Ah  Sin  and  Li  Hong." 

"Oil,  Chinamen  !  "     Geneste's  shrug  was  eloquent. 

"  Well,  come  in  to  dinner,"  said  Tregaskiss. 

He  hurried  to  the  store  cupboard,  returning  presently 
with  a  bottle  of  whiskey  and  one  of  Cyrus  Chance's  bottles 
of  porter,  asked  his  wife  where  the  porter  had  come  from, 
and  laughed  immoderately,  calling  in  the  others,  as  Clare 
reluctantly  told  how  Chance  had  made  her  a  present. 
Cyrus  Chance  the  miser  making  aiwone  a  present !  The 
idea  was  too  comical !  Mr.  Blanchard  supplemented  her 
version  by  an  account  of  old  Cyrus'  visit  to  the  Brinda 
store.  Tregaskiss  jeered  at  the  old  man's  meanness.  Had 
it  been  a  case  of  port  wine,  the  gift  might  have  been  worth 
a  fuss.  Clare  winced  at  the  various  remarks. 

Even  Dr.  Geneste,  to  her  fancy,  stuck  a  jarring  note. 
He  had  a  story  to  tell  of  having  once  discovered  the  mil- 
lionaire, under  an  assumed  name,  among  the  steerage  pas- 
sengers on  a  coasting  boat.  "  He  was  sneaking  up  to  one 
of  his  stations,  Mrs.  Tregaskiss,  so  that  he  might  pounce 
upon  the  manager  unawai-es.  As  it  was,  he  did  catch  the 
poor  fellow  napping,  and  dismissed  him  forthwith." 


BLANCHARD'S  ROMANCE.  149 

"Which  proves  that  Mr.  Chance  had  reason  for  his  pre- 
cautions," answered  Clare  coldly. 

"  You  are  a  friend  of  old  Cyrus'?"  said  Geneste  quickly, 
feeling  that  he  had  made  a  mistake. 

O 

"  Hallo,  here's  Hansen  !  "  broke  in  Tregaskiss.  "  Didn't 
expect  you  so  soon.  What  luck  have  you  had  ?  " 

Mr.  Hansen  was  the  young  man  from  the  out-station. 
He  was  a  colonial  by  birth — a  big,  raw-boned,  red-haired, 
large-limbed  creature,  with  mild  blue  eyes  and  a  shaggy, 
ugly  face.  Ning,  who  adored  him,  flew  into  his  arms, 
crushing  her  white  frock  and  red  sash. 

O 

"  Oh,  mine  cobbon  glad  to  see  you,  Hanny  !  Mine  velly 
glad  !  "  correcting  herself  conscientiously.  "  You  been 
bring  me  quantongs  ?" 

"  All  right,  Pickaninny  !  I've  got  something  better  than 
qnantongs  to  show  you,  after  dinner.  Well,  you  see,  boss, 
I  thought  I'd  try  and  push  for  a  civilised  Sunday,  now  the 
missus  is  back.  I  hope  you  are  better,  Mrs.  Tresgaskiss, 
though  you  don't  look  too  jolly  well.  I'm  at  your  orders. 
It'  the  boss  will  let  me  stop  over  Monday,  I'll  scrub  out  a 
room,  turn  laundress,  or  do  anything  else  you  like." 

"  Oh,  she's  all  right  !  "  interrupted  Tregaskiss.  "  How 
have  you  got  on  with  the  stock  ?  " 

"  Pretty  fair.  Branded  one  hundred  and  seventy  calves 
from  the  Furella  country.  We  rather  did  a  record  yester- 
day. Branded,  turned  the  beasts  up  to  All's  Well  camp, 
killed  and  salted,  and  were  done  in  time  for  a  bogey  in  the 
creek  before  dinner.  That  was  pretty  good,  for  the  cattle 
don't  draft  well  through  Gil-Gil  yard." 

"  Oh,  that  be  blowed,  for  a  yarn  !  "  cried  Tregaskiss. 
"You're  used  to  the  yard  here  ;  but  I'd  sooner  draft 
through  Gil-Gil  yard  myself.  Seen  many  fats  ?  The 
butchers  may  be  up  any  day  now." 

"  Well,  you'll  have  a  job  to  get  the  number  of 
fat  cows,"  replied  Hansen.  "  But  we're  keeping  you, 
Mrs.  Tregaskiss.  Oh,  how  do  you  do,  Dr.  Geneste  ! 


150  MRS.   TREGASKISS. 

Shand  is  cleaning  himself,  boss  ;  you'll  not  wait  for 
him." 

"  Have  a  nip  before  you  begin,"  said  Tregaskiss,  offer- 
ing the  whiskey  impartially.  "  It  will  give  you  an  appe- 
tite. But  the  missus  won't  let  you  drink  it  neat,  Hansen. 
There  is  cold  water  out  in  the  bag." 

"Mrs.  Tregaskiss,  that's  a  libel,"  protested  the  young 
man.  "  I  never  take  my  grog  neat.  Look  here,  boss  ! 
big  as  you  are,  I  don't  mind  having  a  turn  with  the  gloves 
and  fighting  it  out." 

Tregaskiss  liked  the  implied  deference  of  the  title 
"boss."  Mr.  Hansen  was  a  favourite  of  his.  To-night  he 
was  boisterously  good-humoured.  They  all  sat  down  to  the 
meal,  which  was  half  tea,  half  dinner,  most  of  the  gentle- 
men beginning  with  a  "  nip  "  of  whiskey,  and  ending  with 
tea,  which  Clare  dispensed.  Presently  Mr.  Shand  appeared 
in  a  clean  suit  of  white  duck.  Dr.  Geneste  was  also  in 
white  duck,  and  wore  a  starched  shirt.  The  other  two  had 
on  flannel  shirts  and  light  alpaca  coats.  Clare  noticed 
that  Geneste's  sleeve-links  were  fine  "  Alexanders,"  and 
that  he  had  a  curious-looking  antique  coin  hanging  from 
his  watch  chain.  She  was  a  woman  to  whom  such  trifles 
appealed  ;  they  added  to  the  individuality  he  was  assuming 
in  her  eyes.  He  told  her  that  in  old  days  he  had  indulged 
a  fad  for  collecting  coins,  and  hoped  that  she  would  soon 
see  his  collection  at  Darra,  as  well  as  some  Egyptian  scar- 
abei  which  he  had  there  as  well. 

"  You  ought  to  be  interested  in  Egyptian  relics,"  he 
said.  "  I  don't  know  whether  you  have  been  told  that 
your  face  is  of  the  old  Egyptian  type  ?  " 

"  I  have  always  wished  very  much  to  go  to  Egypt,"  she 
said. 

They  fell  into  talk,  taking  a  leap  far  from  the  Leura. 
When  with  him  each  fresh  time  she  had  the  feeling  that 
they  were  resuming  the  thread  of  some  former  intimate 
acquaintanceship,  and  that  already  they  stood  apart  in  a 


BLANCHARD'S  ROMANCE.  151 

world  which  was  not  the  world,  even  of  Helen  Cusack. 
Not  for  years  had  she  looked  so  handsome  or  so  interested, 
and  this  fact  struck  Tregaskiss  as  he  looked  at  her  across 
the  table,  and  annoyed  him.  He  interrupted  the  conver- 
sation by  asking  Geneste  some  questions  about  the  fattening 
properties  of  Darra-Darra,  and  the  talk  became  general 
again  and  confined  within  the  range  of  Leura  interests. 
Hansen  broke  in  : 

"  Do  you  remember  that  big  roan  bullock,  boss,  that  Joe 
lost  on  Brigalow  Creek.  Well,  I  got  him,  but  he  was  as 
wild  as  a  scrubber,  and  I  let  him  go  again,  by  Lake  Eurella. 
I  say,  Mrs.  Tregaskiss,  you  should  just  see  the  lake  now. 
There  must  have  been  a  lot  of  rain  up  there  last  year, 
though  it  was  pretty  dry  down  here.  Of  course  it's  shal- 
low, but  it  looks  like  an  inland  sea.  If  you  stand  on  one 
side,  you  can  hardly  make  out  the  other.  Covered  with 
birds  it  is.  There  are  thousands  of  swans,  and  ducks, — 
and  the  pelicans  !  My  word  !  I've  brought  Ning  a 
whole  winter  frock  of  skins.  I  wish  you  could  feel  the 
fresh  salt  breeze,  Mrs.  Tregaskiss  ;  it  would  just  set 
you.  By  Jove!  it  would  be  a  sound  'spec'  to  put  up 
a  hotel  and  advertise  the  lake  as  the  sanitarium  of  the 
West." 

"  Wait  till  there  comes  a  three  years'  drought,"  said 
Geneste.  "  I've  seen  the  lake  perfectly  dry,  with  a  bed  of 
what  I  thought  was  course  sand,  till  I  examined  it  and 
found  a  mass  of  tiny  shells.  Have  you  ever  been  to  Lake 
Eurella,  Mrs.  Tregaskiss?" 

"  Never,"  she  answered. 

Hansen  proposed  that  they  should  get  up  a  picnic  ;  it 
only  meant  a  night's  camping  out  and  good  horses. 
Blanchard  said  that  the  Cusacks  had  been  talking  of  an 
expedition.  Miss  Cusack  was  very  anxious  for  it  ;  and 
then  Geneste  suggested  that  the  three  stations  should  join 
and  carry  out  the  plan. 

"  Yes,  when  we're  less  short-handed,  and  the  unionists 


152  MRS.   TREGASKISS. 

have  settled  down,  and  Cusack  has  got  over  his  funk  of 
being  attacked,"  put  in  Tregaskiss. 

The  labour  troubles  came  into  discussion  again,  and  Mr. 
Blanchard  reported  anew  rumours  from  be}'ond  Ilgandah. 
Clare  was  struck  by  some  remarks  which  the  young  man 
made,  which  showed  a  thoughtful  grasp  of  the  labour  prob- 
lem, and  an  intelligent  sympathy  with  the  working  class. 
She  saw  that  he  was  much  older  and  more  developed  than 
she  had  at  first  supposed.  At  Brinda  Plains  he  had  seemed 
to  her  retiring  and  almost  insignificant.  This  she  now 
realised  had  been  the  result  of  the  Cusack's  robust  chaff. 
Relieved  from  the  oppression,  he  showed  himself  a  gen- 
tleman of  culture  and  character.  There  was  something 
peculiarly  attractive  about  his  srnile  and  in  a  certain 
"other-worldliness"  he  seemed  to  exhale. 

Later  on  she  spoke  about  him  to  Dr.  Geneste.  They 
had  climbed  the  little  stair  to  the  upper  veranda.  Tre- 
gaskiss and  the  two  Mount  Wombo  young  men  remained, 
deep  in  station  matters.  Mr.  Blanchard  had  gone  to  the 
bachelors'  quarters  for  his  pipe.  Geneste  followed  Mrs. 
Tregaskiss  to  the  further  end  of  the  veranda,  where  he 
went  to  replenish  one  of  the  camp  ovens,  kept  stoked  with 
burning  sandal-wood  boughs.  This  sandal-wood  drove 
away  the  mosquitoes  and  gave  forth  an  agreeable  odour. 
Down  below,  beyond  the  garden  fence,  half  a  dozen  horses 
followed  the  example  of  the  humans,  and  gathered  for  pro- 
tection from  insects  round  a  smoking  rubbish  heap.  The 
moon  was  rising  over  the  lagoon,  and  the  clouds  had  dis- 
appeared, the  heavens  showing  deep  blue  and  starlit.  A 
blacks'  camp  was  pitched  at  the  further  end  of  the  lagoon, 
the  shape  of  the  gunyas  and  an  occasional  black  form 
standing  out  in  the  moonlight,  and  now  and  then  there 
would  float  up  echoes  of  a  dog's  bark  or  a  corobboree 
tune.  Beyond  the  opening  of  the  lagoon  stretched  the 
vast  plain,  which  to  Clare  had  always  something  mystic 
in  its  dim  expanse  ;  and  the  semicircle  of  which  the  lagoon 


BLANCHARD'S  ROMANCE.  153 

formed  the  base  was  closed  in  by  melancholy  gidia  scrub. 
Geneste  helped  Clare  to  put  more  boughs  into  the  little 
furnace,  and  the  odorous  smoke  thickened.  The  door  into 
her  room  stood  open — he  could  tell  that  it  was  her  room 
by  the  light  of  a  lamp  turned  low,  and  by  the  baby's  cot, 
round  which  mosquito  netting  was  drawn  close.  She  left 
him  for  a  few  moments  to  peer  through  the  netting  and 
assure  herself  that  all  was  well. 

"I  always  feel  nervous,"  she  said,  returning  and  seating 
herself  on  a  canvas  chair  near  him,  "  since  once  we  found  a 
scorpion  under  Ning's  pillow." 

Pie  leaned  against  the  railings,  studying  her  profile  as  it 
showed  itself  against  the  dark  slab  wall. 

"Tell  me  about  Mr.  Blanchard,"  she  asked  suddenly. 
"  I  didn't  notice  him  much  at  Brinda.  I  thought  he  was 
only  the  ordinary  new  chum,  and  now  he  strikes  me  as 
being  quite  different  and  decidedly  interesting." 

"  Yes,  he  is  interesting.  I  found  that  out  one  night  over 
our  pipes  at  Darra,  when  ho  opened  himself  a  bit  to  me." 

Mrs.  Tregaskiss  waited,  not  liking  to  appear  intrusive. 

"Aren't  you  going  to  smoke  ?"  she  asked  presently. 

"  You  don't  mind  ?  It  keeps  the  mosquitoes  away,  any- 
how." He  prepared  and  lighted  his  pipe,  puffing  medita- 
tively for  a  few  moments. 

"  There's  a  lot  more  in  Blanchard  than  appears  on  the 
surface,"  Geneste  went  on.  "  He  doesn't  show  himself  as  he 
is,  in  the  Cusack  atmosphere;  unless,"  he  added,  "Miss 
Cusack's  womanly  sympathy  brings  out  something  of  the 
real  man.  I  can  hardly  imagine  how  that  could  fail  to 
have  effect." 

"  Yes,"  Clare  assented  vaguely,  slightly  jarred  by  the 
allusion  to  Miss  Cusack.  "  Tell  me  something  about  him, 
if  you  may." 

"  He  was  a  clergyman,  educated  for  and  thrown  into  a 
family  living.  It  seems  to  have  been  something  of  the 
Robert  Elsmere  story.  He  couldn't  preach  what  he  did 


154  MRS.   TREGASKISS. 

not  believe,  and  proclaimed  himself  an  agnostic  from  the 
family  pulpit.  Of  course  he  left  the  church.  There  was 
a  great  quarrel  with  his  father,  who  disinherited  him. 
Then " 

"  He  came  out  here,  I  suppose." 

"No  ;  he  worked  for  a  bit  in  the  East  End  of  London, 
and  was  in  the  thick  of  that  big  strike  of  the  dockers.  Now 
I'm  getting  on  to  the  confidential  part  of  the  opening  out, 
Mrs.  Tregaskiss,  and  that,  as  you  can  guess,  means  a 
woman.  When  an  Englishman  over  twenty-five  takes  to 
the  bush,  in  nine  cases  out  of  ten  a  woman  is  at  the 
bottom  of  it." 

She  longed  to  ask  him  whether  the  statement  held  good 
in  his  own  case,  but  instead,  she  remarked  : 

"  I  suppose  the  Cusacks  don't  know  anything  of  that 
story  of  his  leaving  the  Church.  If  they  did,  they  would 
hardly  chaff  him  about  being  like  a  bishop.  I  understand 
now  why  he  winced." 

"  Oh,  no,"  answered  Geneste.  "  I  have  not  mentioned 
it  to  anyone  but  you."  Clare's  heart  warmed  with  satis- 
faction :  he  had  not  then  made  a  confidante  of  Helen. 
"  Mrs.  Cusack  is  tot)  kind-hearted  to  knowingly  give  any- 
one pain.  I  don't  think — in  fact  I  am  sure  that  Blanchard 
would  not  like  it  to  come  to  their  ears.  He  has  only  been 
there  a  short  time, — came  on  a  mere  outside  introduction, — 
and  does  not  wish  his  antecedents  gossiped  about.  Though 
he  spoke  of  them  to  me,  he  is  cui-iously  reticent.  I  now 
speak  of  him  to  you  with  the  less  hesitation,  because  he 
happened  to  say  that  you  were  a  woman  whom  a  man  in- 
stinctively trusts.  I  have  no  doubt  that  some  day,  if  you 
cai'e  to  hear  it,  he  will  tell  you  his  own  story." 

"I  am  glad  he  thinks  I  can  be  trusted,"  she  said,  and  was 
silent  for  a  minute  or  two.  The  discussion  at  the  other 
end  of  the  veranda  had  become  noisy.  It  rang  monoton- 
ous changes  on  the  eternal  subject  of  cattle,  and  on  the 
sharp,  practices  of  Cyrus  Chance,  and  the  brag  of  Mr. 


BLANCHARD'S  ROMANCE.  155 

Cusack,  and  did  not  appear  greatly  to  Mr.  Blancliard's 
taste,  for  after  joining  in  it  for  a  few  moments  he  strolled 
to  tlie  upper  level  toward  his  hostess  and  Dr.  Geneste. 

"I  see  you  don't  mind  smoke,  Mrs.  Tregaskiss,"  he  be- 
gan, and  added,  with  a  certain  shyness  :  "I  wish  you  would 
let  us  see  your  drawing-room  ;  we  have  been  sitting  all  the 
time  in  the  veranda,  and  I  am  told  that  it  is  so  pretty  and 
uncommon — like  an  English  room.  It  would  be  nice  to  see 
an  English  room  again." 

Clare  got  up.  "  You  shall  see  it,  certainly  ;  but  mine  isn't 
an  English  room  at  all  ;  it's  much  more  a  barbaric  one,  with 
it's  South -Sea  Island  things ;  and  it  isn't  pretty  either,  and 
you  mustn't  expect  anything  fine  like  your  grand  Brinda 
Plains  drawing-room.  Ning  and  I  always  feel  very  humble 
when  we  come  back  after  a  visit  there.  Mine  is  only  a  col- 
lection of  rubbish  and  home-made  odds  and  ends,  and  no 
one  admires  it  except  Mr.  Chance." 

"  I  did  not  know,"  said  Geneste,  "  that  Cyrus  Chance  ever 
gave  himself  the  oppprtunity  of  admiring  a  lady's  drawing- 
room." 

"  Ah,  as  he  put  it  to-day,  the  merit  of  mine  lies  in  the 
fact  that  it  can't  have  run  over  a  ten-pound  note,"  answered 
Mrs.  Tregaskiss.  "  Come,  we  will  have  some  music.  Mr. 
Blanchard,  you  will  sing  to  us." 

She  led  the  way  to  the  lower  building.  The  windows 
of  the  sitting-room  were  open  front  and  back,  and  made  it 
comparatively  cool,  and  the  dim  light  of  two  or  three 
shaded  lamps  offered  less  attraction  to  the  winged  tilings 
than  the  unshielded  one  by  which  'Gusta  was  clearing  the 
dinner-table  in  the  next  room.  The  night  was  so  still  that, 
notwithstanding  the  complete  draught,  the  lamps  did  not 
flare. 

"  It  is  a  pretty  room,"  said  Blanchard.  "  I  never  saw  one 
like  it." 

That  was  not  surprising.  Mrs.  Tregaskiss  had  utilised 
homely  material,  which  everyone  else  on  the  Leura  would 
11 


156  MRS.   TREGASKISS. 

have  despised.  Moreover,  she  had  not  learned  how  to  mix 
colours  in  the  Warraker  studio  for  nothing.  It  was  nearly 
all  her  own  handiwork,  and  that  of  stray  helpers  in  the 
shape  of  Chinamen,  Kanaka  boys,  and  good-natured  stock- 
men and  new  chums.  Tregaskiss'  part  was  a  fiction  of  his 
wife's  generous  imagination.  At  any  rate,  all  trace  of  it  had 
disappeared.  The  walls  were  of  brown  canvas,  upon  which 
Avas  stretched  South-Sea  Island  tapa,  painted  in  queer  bar- 
baric patterns,  orange,  brown,  and  dull  red  and  blue. 
Where  the  tapa  ran  short  she  had  carried  out  a  suggestion 
of  it  as  background,  in  blue  and  ochreish  red,  and  had  fixed 
upon  it  spears,  paddles,  grotesque  figureheads  of  canoes, 
shields,  arrows,  and  all  kinds  of  native  weapons,  and  from 
the  rough  rafters  which  supported  the  inner-drawn  canvas 
ceiling,  she  had  hung  a  number  of  quaint  South-Sea  gourds. 
All  these  spoils  had  come  from  a  trading  vessel  that  had 
put  into  Port  Victoria,  and  which  Clare  had  boarded  with 
her  husband  in  search  of  a  Kanaka  servant.  She  had 
admired,  bargained,  and  at  last,  to  Keith's  derisive  amuse- 
ment, purchased.  The  woodwork  of  the  room  was  of  brown 
wood,  in  its  natural  grain,  and  on  her  curtains  Clare  had 
embroidered  barbaric  designs  to  match  the  tapa.  Matting 
covered  the  earthen  floor,  and  on  it  lay  rugs  and  a  great 
hearth-rug  of  native  dog  skins.  The  big  fireplace  was 
stacked  with  melons,  y^ellow  and  green,  and  banked  by 
maiden-hair  ferns.  On  each  side  were  low,  rudely  manu- 
factured sofas,  their  broad  seats  upholstered  in  a  fine  sort 
of  South-Sea  Island  matting,  with  quantities  of  great 
downy  cushions  making  big  blotches  of  colour.  There 
were  books  in  plenty,  cushioned  squatters'  chairs,  and  one 
or  two  good  etchings, — survival  of  Queen's  Gate  days, — a 
writing  table  with  English  equipments,  a  little  silver  table, 
and  many  photographs.  Among  these,  the  big  Mendels- 
sohn portrait  of  Gladys  Hilditch  took  a  prominent  place. 

"  It  isn't  a  bit  English,  but  it's  arranged  just  like  an 
English  room,"  young  Blauchard  was  conceding,  when  he 


BLANCH ARD'S  ROMANCE.          157 

stopped  suddenly,  his  gaze  arrested  by  tlie  photograph, 
which  he  looked  at  for  a  moment  with  mere  curiosity,  and 
then  with  a  startled  interest  that  made  Clare  wonder. 

"  Mrs.  Tregaskiss,"  he  exclaimed,  his  voice  shaking  in 
spite  of  his  effort  to  control  it,  "  who — where  did  you  get 
this  ?  " 

Clare  repeated  the  story  of  the  photograph  almost  as  she 
had  told  it  to  Cyrus  Chance.  "  You  know  my  friend,  Mrs. 
Hilditch?"  she  asked  unnecessarily,  for  the  young  man's 
pale  face  and  glowing  eyes,  full  of  agitation,  were  a  plain 
answer  to  her  question. 

"  She — they  had  a  house  near  my  people,"  he  stammered. 

Clare  pointed  to  the  mourning  dress.  "Then  you  must 
have  heard  whether  this  means  that  she  has  lately  had  a 
great  trouble." 

"  I — how  should  I  know  ?  "  he  said  confusedly.  "  Do  you 
mean  that  her  husband  is  dead  ?  Oh,  no  !  He  was  not  a 
young  man,  and  when  I  knew  them  he  was  an  invalid — 
creeping  paralysis  it  was.  But  they  said  he  would  live  for 
years  and  years,  and  not  get  any  worse  or  any  better.  She 
was  good  to  him,  though  he  must  have  tried  her  greatly.  I 
admired  her  for  that." 

Blanchard  had  finished  his  explanation  in  a  mechanical 
manner. 

"  No,"  he  added  abruptly,  "  I  don't  know.  I  never 
hear  from  my  people." 

He  turned  away  as  he  spoke,  and  stood  for  several  min- 
utes in  silence,  his  back  toward  them.  Geneste  was 
watching  Clare,  trying  to  interpret  the  curious  expression 
upon  her  face.  It  made  him  think  of  the  wistful  smile 
a  lost  spirit  might  wear,  when  watching  the  admission  of 
a  more  fortunate  soul  into  paradise.  Then  it  changed  into 
a  look  with  something  in  it  of  self-horror.  She  caught 
Geneste's  eyes.  Her  lips  quivered,  and  her  eyes  pierced 
his  with  a  reproachful  gaze,  which  seemed  to  say  :  "  Why 
are  you  always  finding  me  out?" 


158  MRS.   TREGASKISS. 

"  Won't  you  play  something  ?  "  he  asked,  in  quite  a  mat- 
ter-of-fact tone.  "  Do,  Blanchard,  go  and  get  some  of 
your  songs." 

Clare  sat  down  and  struck  a  few  wandering  chords,  run- 
ning them  into  a  sort  of  accompaniment.  Blanchard,  mut- 
tering something  about "  music  "  and  his  valise,  disappeared. 

"That  was  rather  a  facer  for  poor  Blanchard,"  said 
Geneste. 

"Do  you  mean  that  she — Gladys — was  the  woman  ?  " 

"  I  suppose  so  ;  he  did  not  tell  me  her  name,  but  the  fact 
seems  to  speak  of  itself." 

"  Oh,  no  !  I  dare  say  he  was  in  love  with  her,  but  not 
Gladys.  She  couldn't  have  cared  for  him." 

"Why?" 

"Oh,  she  wasn't  like  that  !  We — she  looked  upon  that 
kind  of  thing  as  sacred.  It  was  her  ideal.  She  chose  to 
give  it  up  because  she  believed  it  unattainable  and  she 
wouldn't  be  contented  with  anything  short  of  the  best.  Of 
course  she  never  cared  at  all  for  poor  Mr.  Hilditch,  but  she 
was  quite  honest,  and  told  him  so." 

"  And  you,"  he  said,  striking  off  the  subject  of  Gladys 
and  Blanchard — "  was  that  why  you  married  too  ?  Had 
you  given  up  your  ideal  because  you  believed  it  unattain- 
able." 

"  No — I — yes.  I  gave  it  up.  I  don't  know  why  you 
always  make  me  tell  you  the  truth.  I  am  very  glad  I 
gave  it  up.  An  ideal  is  always  safe — when  it  is  never 
realised." 

"You  are  wrong — like  many  a  cynic,"  he  said,  in  a  low 
voice.  "  It  is  possible  to  realise  one  ideal  on  earth — the 
ideal  of  love.  I  wonder  if  you  will  ever  find  that  out  ?  " 

"  I  hope  not,"  she  answered. 

"  If  you  do  not,"  he  went  on, "  you  will  have  lived  without 
experience  of  the  one  perfect  human  joy.  If,  on  the  other 
hand,  you  do  find  it  out,  you  may  be  laying  up  for  yourself 
the  most  exquisite  of  human  pains.  I  don't  know  which  to 


BLANCHARD'S  ROMANCE.  159 

hope  for  you,  but  I  cannot  feel  that  you  will  live  out  your 
life  in  ignorance." 

She  went  on  playing  for  a  few  minutes.  Then  she  said 
with  studied  indifference,  reverting  to  the  former  subject  : 

"  I  don't  think  Mr.  Blanchard  can  have  known  Glad}^ 
Hilditch  very  intimately.  If  he  had  done  so  she  would 
have  spoken  to  him  of  me,  and  he  would  not  have  been  so 
taken  aback  at  the  sight  of  her  photograph  in  my  house." 

"Isn't  that  a  feminine  induction  ?  When  a  man  and  a 
woman  are  very  much  engrossed  with  each  other,  they  are 
apt  to  forget  their  friends,  especially  if  they  haven't  met — 
the  friends,  I  mean — for  a  long  time." 

"  More  than  ten  years,"  said  Clare.  "  And  Gladys  is  a 
bad  correspondent." 

"  Were  you  greatly  devoted  to  Mrs.  Hilditch  ?  I  have 
heard  you  mention  her  before.  Are  you  the  kind  of  woman 
to  be  wholly  devoted  to  another  woman  ?" 

"  No.  I  don't  think  I  was  ever  the  kind  of  woman  to  be 
wholly  devoted  to  anyone.  But  Gladys  was  the  only  real 
girl-friend  I  ever  had." 

"  So  you  were  always  lonely,"  he  said.  "Lonely,  grand, 
and  mysterious,  like  the  Sphinx  of  the  desert."  He  broke 
off  with  a  laugh  that  covered  his  romantic  manner  of 
speech.  "  I  told  you  before  that  you  were  like  the 
Sphinx." 

"  The  sphinxes  on  the  Embankment.  Yes,  people  used  to 
say  I  had  their  type  of  features.  But  I  don't  think  there's 
anything  else  sphinx-like  about  me,  Dr.  Geneste.  Life  on 
the  Leura  doesn't  suggest  mysteries.  For  me,  it's  only  a 
very  dull  round  of " — she  paused  for  an  instant — "  of 
commonplace  duties." 

"  Performed  with  a  brave  smile,  when  you  know,  and  I 
know,  that  your  heart  and  intellect  and  soul  must  be 
enduring  slow  agonies  of  starvation.  I  once  saw  you 
unmasked,  remember.  There's  no  use  in  pretending." 

Their   eyes  interchanged    a    look,  and    hers    drooped. 


160  MRS.   TREGASKISS. 

"  No,"  she  answered,  after  a  moment,  "  there's  no  use  in 
pretending,  and  starvation  of  the  soul  is  slow  agony — as 
bad  as  physical  starvation,  and  lasting  much  longer.  But 
I  suppose  even  that  must  come  to  an  end  some  day.  Don't 
talk  of  me  any  more." 

Mr.  Blanchard  came  in  with  a  roll  of  music.  If  the  sight 
of  Glad}rs  Hilditch's  picture  had  caused  him  an  emoticn, 
he  had  pulled  himself  together  by  this  time. 

"  I  brought  over  two  or  three  songs,  Mrs.  Tregaskiss,  that 
I  think  you  may  like,"  he  said  composedly.  "  Perhaps  you 
wouldn't  mind  trying  over  the  accompaniments." 

His  eyes  looked  smarting  and  a  little  wild,  Clare  thought, 
but  his  lips  were  set  very  determinedly.  "  I  wonder  if  he 
was  really  in  love  with  Gladys,"  she  said  to  herself. 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

"  ENGLISH     MAIL." 

SUNDAY  morning  was  late  and  lazy  at  Mount  Wombo,  for 
everyone  but  its  mistress  and  the  faithful  Hanny,  as  Ning 
called  Mr.  Hansen,  who,  true  to  his  offer  of  help,  appeared  at 
the  dairy  door  when  Clare  set  to  work  on  the  milk  pans. 
The  excellent  Ah  Sin  had  no  vocation  here,  and  Mrs. 
Tregaskiss  had  long  made  the  dairy  one  of  her  "  duties." 
Tregaskiss  lay  in  bed  as  long  as  .was  possible.  When  he 
appeared,  he  looked  puffy,  dull,  and  his  eyes  were 
bloodshot.  From  these  signs  Geneste  drew  his  own  con- 
clusions, confirmed  later  by  Hansen's  remark  that  the  boss 
had  made  rather  a  night  of  it,  in  talking  "strike  "and 
whetting  his  wrath  against  the  strikers.  Geneste  had  gone 
to  bed  before  the  others,  and  Blanchard  had  said  good- 
night early,  and  had  gone  to  smoke  a  pipe  by  the  lagoons, 
and,. his  friend  conjectured,  to  dream  about  Gladys  Hilditch. 

Mrs.  Tregaskiss  made  tea,  and  was  reserved  and  polite. 
She  looked  cool,  pale,  and  calm  in  her  gray  cotton  gown 
fashioned  with  a  certain  classical  simplicity  unknown  on 
the  Leura,  where  the  ladies  were  given  to  furbelows  and 
home-made  copies  of  the  plates  in  the  Queen.  Ning 
handed  round  the  coffee  cups,  and  chattered  enough  to 
hide  her  mother's  preoccupation  and  Tregaskiss'  morose 
silence.  After  breafast  the  men  lounged  about  the  lower 
veranda,  smoked,  read  papers,  and  wrote  letters  in  readi- 
ness for  Jemmy  Rodd,  the  mailman,  who  was  expected 
that  day.  It  was  a  relief  to  Blanchard  to  find  that  morn- 
ing service  was  not  read  by  either  master  or  mistress,  for 
he  had  suffered  from  the  fuss  and  ceremony  with  which 

161 


162  MRS.   TREGASKISS. 

"  church  " — obligatory  upon  all  station  hands — was  con- 
ducted by  the  Cusacks.  Clare  held  her  own  religious  exer- 
cises in  the  veranda  upstairs,  where  Geneste,  dragged  by 
Ning,  found  her  giving  instruction  to  Claribel,  a  half-caste 
gin  from  the  camp  called  Lona,  who  was  nursing  a  very 
young  pickaninny,  and  a  half-caste  boy,  son  of  one  of  the 
black  boys  and  a  white  woman.  She  was  dismissing  her 
class  when  he  carne  up,  and  as  soon  as  her  pupils  had  gone, 
she  burst  into  a  laugh  of  real  merriment,  almost  the  first  he 
had  heard  from  her  lips. 

"I  must  tell  you  something  that  Peter  said  just  now  !  " 
she  exclaimed.  "  Peter  is  the  little  half-caste  boy,  and  he  is 
ever  so  much  sharper  than  either  Lona  or  Claribel.  Lona 
is  not  one  of  my  regular  pupils  ;  she  is  really  a  Eungella 
black,  and  is  over  here  with  her  tribe.  I  am  trying  to 
teach  them  a  few  elementary  truths  about  astronomy,  as 
well  as  a  little  othodox  religion,  and  was  explaining  that 
as  we  revolved  on  our  own  axis,  it  was  the  same  sun  we 
saw  every  morning,  whereupon  Peter  confounded  me  by 
remarking  :  '  My  not  think  it  much  of  that  fellow  God. 
What  for  he  no  make  it  new  sun  every  morning  ?  What 
for  always  use  up  old  one  ?  ' ' 

"  Hi,  Clare  ! "  shouted  Tragaskiss,  from  the  lower  level. 
"  Here's  Rodd.  Ask  Geneste  if  he  wants  his  mail-bag,  or 
if  it  is  to  go  on  to  Darra  ?  " 

Geneste  ami  Clare  went  round  to  the  back  veranda^ 
which  looked  down  upon  the  yard.  Jemmy  Rodd  had  just 
arrived  and  was  undoing  his  bundle  of  leather  mail-bags, 
each  sealed  with  the  big  official  seal.  "  Good-day,  Mrs. 
Tregaskiss  !  "  said  Rodd,  interrupting  what  seemed  to  be  a 
stormy  colloquy  with  Tregaskiss.  The  master  of  Mount 
Wombo  was  sputtering  out  imprecations  over  a  piece  of 
news  the  mailman  had  brought  him. 

"By  the  Lord,  I'll  let  them  have  it  if  I  can  get  a  chance  ! " 
he  was  shouting.  "  I'll  insist  upon  the  police  turning 
out.  It's  a  disgrace  to  a  civilised  country.  What  do  you 


"ENGLISH  MAIL."  163 

think  of  this  ?  "  he  called  out  to  Geneste.  "  Those  devils  of 
strikers  have  cut  the  throats  of  three  of  ray  best  horses,  and 
my  drays  are  stuck  up  on  the  other  side  of  Ilgandah.  I 
hear  they've  burned  down  Craig's  woolshed,  and  are  com- 
ing this  way.  We  shall  have  to  arm,  and  by  the  Lord,  I'll 
give  them  no  quarter  !  " 

"  Oh,  they'll  be  making  for  the  big  sheep-owners  first," 
said  Rodd  consolingly.  "  Good-day,  Mrs.  Tregaskiss  !  the 
little  Leura  Terror  has  got  a  load  this  time.  Don't  you 
be  frightened,  ma'am.  They  are  mostly  unionist  shearers 
under  Kelso,  and  it  '11  be  the  turn  of  Brinda  Plains  before 
it's  yours." 

"  My  best  dray-horses  !  "  roared  Tregaskiss.  "  Look  here, 
Hansen,  we  will  start  the  first  thing  to-morrow  ;  and  see  that 
the  fire-arms  are  all  cleaned." 

He  stormed  out  threats  for  a  few  minutes,  not  sparing 
oaths.  Geneste  had  gone  down  the  steps  and  got  his  mail-* 
bag,  which  he  opened,  taking  out  his  letters  and  papers  and 
delivering  the  bag  again  to  Rodd. 

"These  are  for  the  Darra  hands.  I  needn't  seal  it, 
Rodd.  Mrs.  Tregaskiss,  don't  you  want  your  letters? 
Shall  I  bring  them  up  to  you  ?  I  see  there's  an  English 
mail  in." 

At  the  word  "  English  mail,"  the  new  chums  drew  closer, 
and  Tregaskiss  cut  the  string  of  the  bag,  sorting  out  the 
contents  in  little  packets.  There  were  three  or  four  for 
Clare,  and  these  Geneste  took  to  her  and  went  back  to  the 
group  of  men.  When  later  he  returned  to  Mrs.  Tregas- 
kiss, she  was  sitting  at  her  own  corner  of  the  veranda,  read- 
ing a  letter  of  thin  foreign  sheets.  She  looked  up  and 
asked  him  for  particulars  of  the  outrage.  He  understood 
that  it  was  not  from  apathy  she  had  escaped,  but  to  avoid 
the  sound  of  her  husband's  oaths.  Tregaskiss  was  one  of 
those  men  whom  the  presence  of  a  lady  would  not  restrain 
from  swearing,  certainly  not  that  of  his  wife.  There  was 
nothing  more  to  tell.  Rodd's  information  was  so  meagre 


164  MRS.   TREGASKISS. 

that  it  was  certain  Jemmy  the  Liar  was  for  once  keeping 
to  the  strict  truth,  and  that  the  non-arrival  of  the  drays 
was  accounted  for.  Blanchard  came  up  with  another 
letter  for  Mrs.  Tregaskiss,  which  had  been  sorted  into  the 
wrong  pack. 

"  Have  you  got  yours  ?  "  asked  Geneste. 

"  No,"  he  answered  ;  "  they  are  in  the  Brinda  bag. 
It  doesn't  matter.  I  don't  expect  anything  from  Eng- 
land." 

"  Oh,"  exclaimed  Clare,  looking  in  a  puzzled  manner  at 
the  one  he  had  brought  her,  "  this  is  from  Gladys  too  ! 
I  can't  make  it  out." 

Blanchard  deliberately  sat  down  and  took  up  .1  news- 
paper Geneste  had  been  reading.  Clare  looked  up  with 
bright,  excited  eyes. 

"Mr.  Blanchard,  I've  got  news  for  you.  You  said  you 
knew  Mrs.  Hilditch.  Well,  before  very  long  you'll  per- 
haps see  her.  She  is  coming  here  ! " 

Blanchard  gave  an  odd  little  gasp,  and  went  very  white. 
The  voice  in  which  he  answered  was  quite  mechanical. 

"  Coming  here  ?     How  is  that  ?  " 

"  Mr.  Hilditch  is  dead.  He  had  a  dreadful  illness.  He 
died, — let  me  see, — it  must  be  nearly  a  year  ago.  Gladys 
has  been  ill  too.  She  has  had  something  wrong  with  her 
nerves,  and  the  doctors  have  ordered  her  a  vo}rage.  She 
is  coming  out  by  the  British  India  line  and  will  stop  at 
Port  Victoria.  To  think  of  Gladys  at  Port  Victoria  !  " 

Mrs.  Tregaskiss  laughed — again  with  the  note  of  girlish 
gladness.  The  thought  of  seeing  Gladys  seemed  a  renewal 
of  youth.  Blanchard  said  not  a  word.  She  went  on  :  "I 
ought  to  have  got  this  when  she  sent  the  photograph.  She 
was  going  to  sail  immediately."  She  ran  her  eyes  over 
the  second  letter. 

"  This  is  from  Gladys  too — from  Colombo.  She  was 
breaking  the  vo}Tage  there.  It's  like  a  play  when  the  an- 
nouncement and  the  arrival  come  together.  She  will  be 


"ENGLISH  MAIL."  165 

at  Port  Victoria  by  the  next  boat,  and  she  wants  to  come 
up  here." 

Geneste  remembered  that  he  had  a  letter  to  send  by 
Jemmy  Rodd,  and  left  the  other  two  together.  Clare 
looked  at  Mr.  Blanchard,  full. 

"  Tell  me,"  she  asked,  "  did  you  know  Mrs.  Hilditch 
very  well  ?  " 

Blanchard  hesitated.  "  I  knew  her,"  he  said, — "I  think  I 
knew  her  pretty  well." 

"  She  never  talked  to  you  about  me?  " 

"  Oh,  no  !  Yes,  I  remember  her  saying  that  she  had  a 
friend  who  was  married,  and  in  Australia,  but  she  did  not 
mention  your  name.  Mrs.  Hilditch,"  he  added,  after  a  mo- 
ment, "  was  extremely — modern.  She  went  forward,  and 
looked  forward,  rather  than  backward.  She  was  very 
much  taken  up  with  life,  as  it  moved  at  the  moment,  round 
her.  She  always  wanted  to  be  up  to  date  and  to  march 
with  the  new  ideas." 

"  Gladys  always  was  full  of  ideas." 

"But  she  did  not  hold  to  her  ideas  for  long  at  a  time. 
She  only  cared  for  them  if  they  meant  a  new  sensation.  I 
think  she  got  into  a  way  of  looking  upon  life  as  a  drama, 
which  must  be  exciting,  if  nothing  else.  Contrasts  were 
delightful  to  her.  She  was  essentially  a  woman  of  luxury, 
but  she  liked  playing  at  East-End  work,  and  touching  hands 
with  sordid  tragedy,  for  the  sake  of  enjoying  her  ease  and 
luxury  the  more  when  she  came  back  to  them." 

There  was  great  bitterness  in  his  tone. 

"  I  knew  Gladys  Warraker  well,  Mr.  Blanchard,"  cried 
Clare  indignantly,  "  and  I  know  that  you  are  unjust  to 
her  ! " 

"  Ah  !  but  you  have  not  known  Gladys  Hilditch,"  he 
answered.  "  If  you  had  you  would  understand  that  I  am 
only  quoting  her  own  estimate  of  herself.  I  think,"  lie 
added,  "  that  her  marriage  and  her  immense  riches  must 
have  made  a  great  change  in  her.  She  had  a  trying  life 


166  MRS.   TREGASKISS. 

with  her  invalid  husband,  and  she  took  what  distraction 
she  could  abroad."  ' 

"  I  never  saw  Mr.  Hilditch.  He  was  a  wealthy  ship- 
owner, wasn't  he  ?  Tell  me  what  he  was  like." 

Blanchard  hesitated  again. 

"  He  was  like Oh,  the  type  of  conventional  nouveau- 

riche  describes  him  sufficiently.  He  was  not  a  bad  sort, 
but  he  was  vulgar  and  a  bore.  He  used  to  sit  at  the  head 
of  his  dinner-table,  wheeled  in  ;  and  he  talked  a  good  deal 
about  himself,  and  drew  people's  attention  to  his  wife's 
jewels,  and  to  the  points  in  her  painters  admired." 

"  And  now  he  is  dead." 

"  Now  he  is  dead,"  repeated  Blanchard  calmly. 

"  Mr.  Blanchard,"  said  Mrs.  Tregaskiss  boldh',  "  shall 
you  be  glad  or  sorry  to  see  Gladys  Hilditch  again  ?  " 

His  face  worked  slightly. 

"  It  is  hard  to  say.  I  shall  be  sorry  because  it  will  be  a 
revival  of  some  painful  associations.  I  shall  be  glad  because 
one  is  always  glad,  Mrs.  Tregaskiss,  to  see  a  woman  who  has 
once  deeply  interested  him.  It's  not  possible  to  help  it." 

11  Once?  "  she  said. 

He  did  not  reply. 

She  half  stretched  out  her  hand  in  an  impulsive  move- 
ment. 

"  I  am  Gladys'  friend,  and  I  don't  think  when  we  come 
together  that  she  will  keep  many  secrets  from  me.  If  I 
can  help  you  in  any  way,  you  may  trust  me." 

"  I  know  that.  But,  with  regard  to  Mrs.  Hilditch,  there 
is  nothing  in  which  you  can  help  me.  I  dare  say  Geneste 
told  you  something  of  what  I  mentioned  to  him — about  my 
life  ?  "  he  added  abruptly. 

"  Yes  ;  only  a  bald  outline.  He  spoke  of  yonr  career  as 
a  clergyman.  Please  let  me  say  that  I  admire  and  honour 
you  for  your  courage  and  honesty." 

"  Oh,  that !  Of  course,  there  was  nothing  else  to  do. 
Besides,  it  meant  liberation  from  a  great  sham." 


"ENGLISH  MAIL."  167 

"  But  it  destroyed  your  worldly  prospects." 

"  I  suppose  it  did.  That,  however,  is  not  important. 
I  was  sorry  about  some  things — the  working  with  the  poor 
and  such  like.  I  tried  being  a  sort  of  lay  preacher  of  the 
humanities  in  the  East  End,  but "  He  stopped. 

"  Gladys  interfered,"  mentally  filled  in  Clare.  "  Dr. 
Geneste  told  me  nothing  confidential,"  she  said  aloud. 
"  He  thought  yon  would  not  mind  my  knowing  that 
much." 

"  Oh,  no  !  I  am  very  glad.  In  fact,  I  gave  him  a  sort 
of  permission — if  you  cared.  It's  very  good  of  you  to  be 
interested  in  me,  Mrs.  Tregaskiss,  and  of  Geneste,  too. 
He  has  got  a  way  of  worming  out  one's  secrets.  I  don't 
mean  anything  disparaging — quite  the  reverse.  But  some- 
thing in  him  compels  a  fellow  to  speak  out  from  the  inside 
of  him." 

"  Yes,  I  have  felt  that." 

"  It's  his  power  of  s^ympathy,  I  suppose,  and  the  sense  of 
a  common  bond  of  suffering.  He  has  gone  through  a  good 
deal  himself." 

"  I  should  fancy  that  being  a  doctor  has  taught  him  to 
understand  human  nature,"  said  Clare. 

Blanchard's  words  had  lifted  a  vague  weight  from  her 
mind.  She  had  been  a  little  troubled  at,  and  just  a  little 
ashamed  of,  this  tendency  in  herself  to  reveal  the  inner 
things  of  her  mind  to  Dr.  Geneste.  It  seemed  to  indicate 
an  attraction — something  she  could  not  think  of  without  a 
faint  blush  ;  something  which  she  would  not  even  put  into 
words.  But  if  Blanchard,  who  Avas  a  man,  felt  the  same, 
why  should  she  mind  ? 

"  Not  only  that,"  Blanchard  answered  ;  "  though  I  dare 
say  it  has  a  good  deal  to  do  with  it.  I  believe  he  was 
thought  a  good  deal  of  as  a  physician,  Mrs.  Tregaskiss. 
I've  come  across  references  to  him,  and  I've  read  some 
things  he  has  written.  No,  it  isn't  only  that.  I  wonder 
if  this  would  be  a  breach  of  confidence?  I  can't  think  so. 


168  MRS.   TREGASKISS. 

He  invited  my  confidence  by  partly  giving  me  his  own. 
Geneste  very  nearly  wrecked  his  life  for  a  woman." 

«Ah!" 

"  But  he  had  the  strength  to — flee  temptation.  That's 
what  an  infatuation  for  an  unworthy  woman  means,  even 
if  a  man  intends  to  marry  her." 

"  You  seem  to  half  imply Mr.  Elan  chard,  it  is  not 

possible  that  you  can  have  the  faintest  notion  in  your  mind 
of  Gladys  Hilditch  !  " 

"  God  forbid  !  Let  us  leave  Mrs.  Hilditch  out  of  the 
question,  Mrs.  Tregaskiss.  I  see  you  have  jumped  at  a 
conclusion,  not  unnatural.  My  ridiculous  upset  at  the 
sight  of  her  photograph — and — all  the  rest.  But  I  assure 
you  that  I  am  nothing  to  Mrs.  Hilditch,  nor  she  to  me, 
beyond  being,  as  I  said,  a  lady  in  whom  I  was  once  much 
interested." 

He  got  up,  as  if  to  close  the  conversation,  but  lingered, 
fidgetting  with  the  newspaper. 

"  I  thank  you  sincerely  all  the  same,  Mrs.  Tregaskiss  ; 
and,  as  you  say,  I  dare  say  Mrs.  Hilditch  will  tell  you 
anything  there  may  be  to  tell."  After  a  moment  or  two 
he  added,  in  a  different  tone  :  "  I  am  glad  you  like  Geneste. 
I've  got  to  know  him  pretty  well.  You  see,  he  is  a  good 
deal  at  Brinda  Plains.  It's  bad  luck  for  him,  that  lame 
leg.  Cripples  him  a  bit,  and  puts  a  stop  to  his  wild  life. 
An  explorer  among  dangerous  blacks  needs  to  be  sound  of 
wind  and  limb." 

"  Yes.     Is  Dr.  Geneste  sorry  to  give  all  that  up  ?  " 

"  No,  I  don't  fancy  so.  He  is  not  so  young  as  he  was. 
And,  after  all,  he  has  done  splendid  service  in  opening  up 
the  country.  I  almost  wonder  he  doesn't  go  back  to  Eng- 
land. He  keeps  touch  with  it  by  his  articles.  I  suppose 
you  read  the  one  in  the  Nineteenth  Century  f  " 

"  Yes,"  said  Clare.  "  Perhaps,"  she  added,  "  there  is  an 
attraction  on  the  Leura  for  Dr.  Geneste." 

"  You  mean  Miss  Cusack  ?     He's  old  for  her,  Mrs.  Tre- 


"ENGLISH  MAIL."  169 

gaskiss  ;  and  Geneste  couldn't  be  in  love  with  that  girl, 
charming  and  pretty  and  angelic  as  she  is,  in  the  way  that 
a  man  like  him  would  be  in  love  with  a  woman — has  been 
in  love  with  a  woman.  Still,  that  would  be  the  salvation 
of  the  affair,  don't  you  think,  if  he  did  marry  her  ?  He 
has  gone  through  all  the  fiery  business,  and  his  feeling  for 
her  would  be  quite  different — more  tender  and  more  pro- 
tecting, but  not  love." 

"You  think  he  will  marry  her?"  said  Mrs.  Tregaskiss, 
in  a  low  voice. 

"  Yes,  I  often  fancy  so.  I  can't  help  thinking,"  Blanch- 
ard  went  071,  unconsciously  following  out  poor  Helen's 
train  of  thought,  "  that,  if  Elaine  hadn't  pined  herself  to 
death,  Lancelot  would  have  married  her  in  the  long  run, 
and  settled  down  comfortably  at  Camelot.  I  had  an  idea, 
some  little  time  ago,  that  they  were  almost,  if  not  quite, 
engaged,  but  I've  changed  my  opinion  since  he  was  last 
over.  If  anybody  is  in  the  running  now,  it  looks  like 
young  Gillespie.  She  is  a  nice  girl,  Mrs.  Tregaskiss, — 
just  the  sort  of  a  girl  a  fellow  would  like  his  sister 
to  be." 

Mr.  Hansen  lounged  up,  leading  Ning,  his  ugly  face  all 
abeam  with  content. 

"  Isn't  she  good,  the  Pickaninny  ?  I  say,  Mrs.  Tregaskiss, 
the  boss  sent  me  to  tell  you  that  he'd  be  glad  for  you  to  go 
down  to  the  office.  He's  posting  up  the  station  log.  I 
offered  to  write  it,  but  he  said  no  one  but  you  knew  what 
had  been  doing.  I  must  say  I  am  enjoying  to-day,"  Mr. 
Hanson  went  on,  in  a  burst  of  confidence  as  he  accompanied 
Clare  down  the  veranda.  "  The  Pickaninny  is  splendid 
company  ;  and  it's  awfully  jolly  to  come  to  a  place  on 
Sunday  and  find  everybody  clean  and  camping  in  the  ver- 
anda, you  know,  especially  when  you  get  a  good  dinner, 
and  the  mail  comes  in,  and  there  are  the  papers  to  read. 
You  see,  one  is  taught  a  religion  when  one  is  a  youngster," 
added  Mr.  Hansen  apologetically,  "  and  the  least  you  can  do 


170  MRS.  TREGASKISS. 

to  keep  it  up  is  to  camp  on  Sunday  and  wear  a  coat  and  a 
•white  shirt." 

Blanchard  laughed.  It  was  a  compendium  of  bush 
orthodoxy.  To  put  on  a  clean  shirt  and  to  camp  on  Sun- 
day is  the  stockman's  open  profession  of  allegiance  to  a 
Higher  Being. 


CHAPTER  XV.  . 

DOWN    WITH    FEVER. 

IT  was  a  week  later.  Clare  Tregaskiss  was  alone  at 
Mount  Wombo.  Tregaskiss  and  Mr.  Hansen  had  started 
off  with  pack-horses  to  bring  back  what  they  could  save  from 
the  wreckage  of  the  drays.  Mr.  Hansen  had  returned  with 
Jo  Ramm  and  his  team  of  bullocks,  pressed  into  the  service, 
carrying  most  of  the  loading,  but  Tregaskiss  had  gone  to 
Ugandan,  and  was  still  absent.  Times  were  turbulent  just 
now  on  the  Leura,  and  no  doubt  he  wished  to  be  where  his 
presence  was  most  likely  to  be  useful — at  the  headquarters 
of  the  Pastoralist  Committee.  So  his  wife  reasoned.  He 
had  offered  a  reward  in  hopes  of  discovering  the  per- 
petrators of  the  outrage  upon  his  horses,  and  it  was  owing 
to  his  urgent  complaints,  as  much  as  to  Mr.  Cusack's 
frenzied  entreaties  for  police  protection,  that  a  military 
patrol  had  been  told  off  for  the  district  and  a  force  of 
special  constables  enrolled.  The  delayed  shearing  was 
proceeding  vigorously  at  Brinda  Plains  and  at  other  of 
the  large  sheep-stations  employing  southera  labour,  and  so 
incensed  were  the  unionists  that  they  threatened  to  burn 
every  one  of  the  woolsheds,  and  to  wreck  the  train  bearing 
wool  bales  from  Cedar  Hill  to  Port  Victoria. 

There  was  little  or  nothing  to  fear  for  Mount  Wombo, 
unless  it  were  on  the  score  of  Tregaskiss'  personal  unpopu- 
larity, to  which,  no  doubt,  was  owing  the  loss  he  had  sus- 
tained in  the  sticking  up  of  his  drays.  Mount  Wombo, 
Darra-Darra,  and  a  few  others  were  cattle-stations  and  em- 
ployed but  a  few  men.  Tregaskiss,  at  any  rate,  appeared 
to  take  it  for  granted  that  his  wife  was  perfectly  safe  with 
12  wi 


172  MRS.   TREGASKISS. 

no  other  protectors  than  Shand  and  the  two  Chinamen. 
Hansen  had  gone  back  to  the  out-station,  where,  lie  waa 
more  needed,  as  a  muster  was  going  on,  and  besides  there 
was  extra  work  at  the  bore,  in  view  of  the  continued 
drought,  and  even  Mr.  Shand  was  absent  a  whole  day 
at  a  time,  carrying  rations  thither. 

Clare  Tregaskiss  was  not  nervous  in  the  sense  in  which 
ordinary  women  are  nervous.  In  fact,  she  rather  relished 
the  fillip  to  her  monotonous  existence.  And  then — oh, 
miserable  certainty  !  long  since  established  in  her  mind,  the 
absence  of  her  husband  was  an  untold  relief.  She  roused 
herself  by  an  effort  of  will  from  the  dreamy  mood  into 
which  she  had  lately  fallen.  She  had  got  into  a  way  of 
brooding  restlessly  upon  the  limitations  of  her  lot. 
Geneste's  words  haunted  her.  It  did  seem  hard  that  she 
would  never  know  the  sweetest  of  human  joys.  He  had 
known  it,  or  he  could  not  have  spoken  with  so  much 
fervour.  Had  he  then  so  loved  the  worthless  woman  upon 
whom  he  had  so  nearly,  according  to  Blanchard,  thrown 
away  his  life.  Could  she  have  been  worthless,  if  he  so 
loved  her?  She  wondered  and  wondered,  and,  somehow, 
in  their  brief  acquaintance  every  look,  word,  gesture 
of  Geneste's  seemed  to  stand  out  and  acquire  a  new 
significance. 

She  was  wise  enough  to  know  that  this  brooding  was 
unhealthy,  but  her  very  preoccupation  enabled  her  to 
bear  more  calmly  the  jar  of  Tregaskiss'  companionship. 
Now  that  he  was  gone  she  could  throw  herself  more 
readily  into  her  daily  tasks.  She  set  to  work  upon  some 
calico  frocks  for  Ning,  and  began  a  campaign  against 
'Gusta's  negligences.  She  had  the  bachelors'  quarters 
cleansed  and  reorganised  ;  the  store  put  tidy,  and  certain 
alterations  made  in  the  arrangement  of  the  furniture  of 
the  house.  Much  of  this  she  did  with  her  own  hands  ; 
and  it  was  in  trying  to  move  a  heavy  table  that  she 
strained  her  back,  and  then  one  day  discovered  that  her 


DOWN  WITH  FEVER.  173 

body  was  aching  disproportionately,  and  that  she  was  very 
cold,  though  the  thermometer  stood  over  100°.  When 
the  fits  of  shivering  were  followed  by  severer  pain,  and  by 
fever  and  giddiness,  she  knew,  without  being  told,  that  she 
was  in  for  a  touch  of  Northern  fever. 

The  second  day  that  it  racked  her, — or  rather  the  fourth 
from  her  seizure,  for  this  fever  holds  its  victim  on  alternate 
days, — as  ill  luck  would  have  it,  butchers  came  and  Mr. 
Shand  was  compelled  to  take  them  to  a  distant  part  of  the 
run,  which  involved  two  nights  away  from  the  head-station. 
lie  left  her  with  uneasiness  and  regret,  but  he  could  do 
nothing  except  send  a  message  to  Tregaskiss  by  the  mail- 
man, who  was  passing,  and  another  to  Jo  Ramm's  wife,  who 
camped  with  her  husband's  drays  some  twenty  miles  dis- 
tant, begging  her  to  take  the  first  opportunity  of  getting 
to  Mount  Wombo.  Mrs.  Ramm  was  one  of  the  resources 
of  the  district  when  servants  ran  short  or  a  sick  nurse  was 
wanted. 

All  day  Clare  lay  aching,  burning,  and  dizzy,  with 
barely  energy  enough  to  take  such  simple  remedies  as  sug- 
gested themselves,  and  helpless  under  the  clumsy  minis- 
trations of  the  half-castes,  'Gusta,  and  Ah  Sin.  She 
remained  stretched  upon  the  sofa  in  the  drawing-room, 
wrapped  in  her  opossum  cloak,  though  the  heat  was 
scorching  outside,  seeing  curious  visions  and  deluded  by 
wandering  fancies,  longing,  when  she  could  think  col- 
lectedly, that  the  hours  would  pass  and  bring  her  to  the, 
off-day  of  comparative  ease. 

It  was  four  o'clock.  Ning  was  playing  with  her  doll  by 
her  mother's  side,  acting  a  tragedy  of  "  debil-debil."  The 
child's  imagination,  fed  by  the  legends  of  the  blacks' 
camp,  had  of  late  been  exercising  itself  upon  this  mythical 
personage. 

"Kai!  Here,  you  pickaninny,  you  stop  inside  there," 
rehearsed  Ning,  putting  her  doll  in  the  centre  of  a  circle 
on  the  carpet  defined  by  tiny  heaps  of  twigs,  which  she 


174  MRS.   TREGASKISS. 

called  her  fires.  She  had  seen  Claribel  light  fires  round 
the  playground  to  keep  debil-debil  away.  "  Mummy,  my 
make  plenty  fire,  and  suppose  debil-debil  look  after 
pickaninny,  he  sit  down  along  side  fire  and  pickaninny 
quite  safe.  Cobbon  old,  that  fellow  debil-debil.  Cobbon 
cold — like  it  mummy.  Ba'al  he  got  him  'possum  rug. 
Budgery  fire — my  mean  very  good  fire.  No  touch  Ning's 
pickaninny." 

But  King's  dramatic  instinct  demanded  that  pickaninny 
should  be  naughty  and  stray  beyond  the  circle  into  the 
clutches  of  debil-debil,  who  was  represented  by  a  nigger 
doll,  mutilated  and  of  a  forbidding  aspect.  Pickaninny 
was  lost  under  the  sofa,  whither  debil-debil  had  carried 
her  and  Ning  tragically  roamed  the  room  wringing  her 
hands  like  a  bereft  Demeter,  and  crooning  a  blacks' 
"  ugal,"  which  the  half-caste  had  taught  her  as  the  ac- 
cepted form  of  exorcism  for  debil-debil,  or  the  impish 
Yo-wi,  or  any  other  spirit  whatsoever. 

"  '  Yuru  dhari  nje  ;  yuri,  dhari  nje. 
Dula  ran ja  burula  ;  yuri  dh&ri  nje  ! ' " 

"Oh,  Ning,  child,  don't  make  so  much  noise  !  Mummy 
has  a  headache.  Mummy  is  very  sick." 

The  dogs  barked  outside.  The  thud  of  a  horse's  hoofs 
sounded  in  the  yard.  Had  the  unionists  come  ?  Clare 
wondered  vaguely.  Ning  ceased  her  outcries  as  'Gusta 
entered. 

"  Please,  Mrs.  Tregaskiss,  it's  a  gentleman." 

Clare  roused  herself  and  turned  dazed  eyes  to  the  door, 
to  encounter  the  anxious  gaze  of  Geneste. 

"You  are  ill !  "  he  exclaimed  ;  "  and  there's  nobody  to 
look  after  you  ?  " 

"Mummy's  sick,  and  pickaninny  belong  to  me  is  sick, 
and  debil-debil  has  carried  her  off,  and  Ning  has  been  a 
good  girl,  Dr.  Geneste,  and  has  not  done  anything  to  make 
mummy  worse,"  announced  Ning,  upon  her  knees  by  the 


DOWN  WITH  FEVER.  175 

sofa,  diving  for  her  lost  doll,  which  she  had  flung  far  to- 
ward the  wall. 

"  All  right,  Pickaninny,  let  me  come  near  your  mother 
and  see  what  is  the  matter  with  her.  All,  I  know  what  it 
is."  He  had  her  hand  in  his  and  his  fingers  upon  her 
pulse.  "  You  have  got  a  touch  of  fever.  When  did  it 
come  on  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know — I'm  all  aching  and  confused.  Yes,  I  sup- 
pose it's  fever.  Is  Keith  with  you?" 

"  He's  at  Ilgandah,  harrying  the  Pastoralist  Committee. 
They've  been  having  rows  there.  No,  the  fact  is,  Rodd 
passed  and  left  some  sort  of  message  about  your  being 
alone,  and  that  I  was  to  tell  Tregaskiss  if  I  saw  him,  and 
as  I  didn't  quite  like  the  notion  of  your  being  left  with 
only  those  two  Chinamen,  I  hurried  along.  Lucky  I  did, 
too.  Mrs.  Tregaskiss,  this  won't  do.  You  must  be  got  to 
bed  at  once." 

He  went  out  and  called  'Gusta  and  Claribel,  and  among 
them  they  prepared  Clare's  bed,  and  he  carried  her  in, 
leaving  the  two  women  to  undress  her.  Afterward  he 
routed  about  Tregaskiss'  office  and  found  the  medicine- 
chest  and  the  medicine  he  wanted.  When  he  came  back 
Clare  was  in  bed,  her  eyes  wild  and  her  speech  wandering. 
There  were  alternations  of  shivering  and  fever,  and  he  saw 
that  she  was  in  for  rather  a  bad  bout.  He  gave  her  lauda- 
num to  induce  perspiration,  and  by  and  by  she  got 
quieter.  With  the  deftness  of  a  nurse,  he  moved  about 
getting  her  all  that  could  make  her  more  comfortable,  and 
oddly  enough,  there  seemed  nothing  strange  to  her  in  his 
attendance — it  was  as  though  she  had  been  used  to  it  long, 
long  ago,  and  his  very  presence  brought  a  sense  of  rest  and 
soothing  indescribably  delightful. 

Geneste  was  perplexed.  Clearly  she  was  not  in  a  condi- 
tion to  be  left  to  the  tender  mercies  of  the  half-caste  and 
the  incompetent  'Gusta.  He  mentally  ran  his  eye  over 
the  list  of  neighbours,  but  the  only  one  near  was  Mrs.  Car- 


176  MRS.  TREGASKISS. 

mody,  who  needed  caring  for  even  more  than  Clare. 
He  thought  of  motherly  Mrs.  Cusack  and  sympathetic 
Helen,  but  Brinda  Plains  was  fifty  miles  distant  and  in  a 
state  of  siege,  all  the  men  on  the  station  sleeping  with 
fire-arms  in  readiness,  expecting,  while  the  free  shearers 
were  at  work,  an  attack  on  the  woolshed.  There  was  not 
even  a  stockman's  wife  available  at  Darra-Darra,  and  he 
had  given  up  the  idea  of  procuring  a  nurse  as  hopeless, 
when  the  recollection  of  Mrs.  Ramm,  the  bullock-drover's 
wife,  camped  halfway  between  the  two  stations,  came 
to  him  as  an  inspiration.  That  evening,  when  Clare  was 
sleeping  under  the  influence  of  the  opium,  he  saddled 
one  of  Tregaskiss'  horses,  put  a  side-saddle  on  the  quietest 
of  the  lady's  hacks,  and  went  at  full  speed  in  search  of 
Mrs.  Ramra.  It  was  twenty  miles  to  Jo's  camp,  and  good 
riding  was  needed  for  them  to  reach  Mount  Wombo  by 
breakfast  time. 

"I  have  brought  someone  to  look  after  you,"  he  said  to 
Mrs.  Tregaskiss  when,  after  having  bathed  and  dressed,  he 
came  to  pay  her  a  professional  visit. 

She  looked  the  ghost  of  herself,  so  pulled  down  was  she 
and  so  shaken.  Mrs.  Ramm  came  in  behind  him  and  made 
an  awkward  salutation  to  the  sick  mistress.  She  was  the 
roughest-looking  of  creatures,  short,  thick-set,  broad-fea- 
tured, her  face  pitted  with  smallpox  marks,  her  wiry  iron- 
gray  hair  cropped  close,  "  for  the  convenience  of  it,"  her 
hands,  huge,  red,  and  apparently  designed  by  nature  for 
the  use  of  a  scrubbing  brush.  But  she  was  scrupulously 
clean,  and  her  short  dark  blue  skirt  and  striped  jacket  were 
fresh  from  the  wash. 

"  Mrs.  Ramm ! "  murmured  Clare,  in  astonishment. 
"  Where  did  you  come  from  ?  " 

"It's  the  doctor  himself  that  rode  over  to  the  camp  last 
night  and  fetched  me.  My  word,  Mrs.  Tregaskiss !  I'd 
have  ridden  a  hundred  miles  to  see  a  decent  woman  again. 
It's  a  year  and  more  that  I've  trudged  along  beside  Ramm 


DOWN  WITH  FEVER.  177 

and  the  bullock-dray,  or  else  sat  on  the  wool-bales,  and 
now  I'm  camping  by  myself  close  agen  the  bore,  while  he 
does  a  job  for  the  road  surveyors.  I  just  went  to  the 
men's  camp  to  clean  up.  Lord,  it  was  dirty !  I  aint  no 
great  shakes,  and  them  men  laughed  fine  at  me  with  my 
house  under  the  dray.  But  I  says  :  '  Them  as  lives  in  glass 
houses  shouldn't  shy  stones  at  them  as  lives  in  drays.' 
And  I  had  the  laugh  of  them  when  I  saw  all  their  muck." 

Clare  turned  an  eloquent  look  of  gratitude  on  Geneste. 
How  her  face  had  changed,  he  thought ;  it  had  lost  that 
strange  masked  look.  Or  was  it  only  when  she  looked  at 
him  that  it  reflected  her  real  inner  self? 

"  You  went  all  that  way  to  bring  her?  You  must  have 
been  on  horseback  the  whole  night.  And  you  did  it  for 
me!" 

"  You  forget  I'm  used  to  that  sort  of  thing.  I  really 
couldn't  feel  happy  about  you,  in  the  hands  of  Claribel  and 
'Gusta.  Mrs.  Ramm  may  not  be  an  accomplished  nurse, 
but  she  knows  how  to  make  a  bed,  anyhow,  and  can  keep 
things  a  bit  tidy  about  you." 

"  'Deed,  sir,"  said  Mrs.  Ramm,  bridling  up  as  she  paused 
in  the  act  of  dusting  the  looking-glass,  "you  mustn't 
think  I'm  not  used  to  gentle  folk's  ways.  Before  I  married 
Ramm  I  was  servant  to  the  Mr.  Micklethwaites,  as  was 
just  straight  from  a  castle  in  England.  And  if  you'd  a 
just  seen  that  house.  Satin  cushions,  and,  my  word  !  a 
Brussels  carpet,  and  hair-brushes  with  a  silver  letter  on 
'em — for  all  the  world  like  yours,  Mrs.  Tregaskiss.  Not 
but  what  you've  got  a  nice  place  here,  and  Ramm,  he  do  say 
it  does  his  heart  good  to  look  at  the  gimcracks  and  flowers 
about.  I  allers  holds  on  to  flowers  myself,  and  I  mind 
well,  how,  thinks  I,  at  them  Micklethwaites,  this  droring- 
room  do  look  that  cheerless,  with  ne'er  a  green  splurt,  or  a 
lady,  and  I  gets  a  pie  dish  and  puts  water  in  it  and  picks 
a  lot  of  shallot  tops — there  warn't  nothing  else — and  sticks 
'em  in.  And  my  word  !  they  did  look  fine,  and  they 


178  MRS.   TREGASKISS. 

smelled  beautiful.  Them  gentlemen  was  that  pleased  they 
laughed  to  split  their  sides  when  they  seed  'em." 

"  Well,  you  needn't  put  any  shallot-tops  in  here,  Mrs. 
Ramm,  for  there  are  plenty  of  flowers  in  the  garden. 
And  now  you  shall  go  and  see  if  Ah  Sin  hasn't  got  some- 
thing good  for  Mrs.  Tregaskiss'  breakfast ;  and  you  shall 
set  Ah  Sin  at  once  to  kill  a  chicken  for  broth,  and  I  trust 
you  to  bring  it  to  my  patient  regularly." 

"You  are  very  good  to  me,"  said  Clare  softly,  when 
they  were  alone.  "  I  don't  like  to  trouble  you  so." 

He  had  been  preparing  a  dose,  and  gave  it  to  her  to 
swallow  before  he  replied.  Then  he  stooped  down  and 
touched  her  hand.  He  had  the  physician's  touch,  cool  and 
healing,  a  touch  which  has  always  something  of  a  mag- 
netic effect  on  the  nerves. 

"  Let  me  be  good  to  myself  by  allowing  me  to  stop  a 
day  or  two  and  try  to  be  good  to  you,"  he  said,  with  a 
tender  intonation  in  his  voice.  "  You  need  it,  and  there 
are  not  many  to  be  good  to  you." 

She  did  not  answer.  All  day  he  came  in  and  out,  min- 
istering to  her  comfort  and  ease,  as  a  mother  or  sister 
might  have  done.  When  she  said  this  to  him,  he  laughed, 
and  answered  that  it  showed  doctoring  was  bis  real  voca- 
tion, since  he  took  so  naturally  to  his  old  trade.  He  put 
her  food  before  her  himself,  arranging  the  tray,  upon 
which  he  laid  a  pale  pink  rose,  and  talked  to  her,  and, 
when  he  thought  she  was  tired,  read  her  to  sleep.  She 
was  not  in  pain  to-day,  and  there  was  almost  blessedness 
in  the  lassitude.  His  companionship  was  pleasant,  apart 
from  personal  considerations.  He  had  seen  much,  had 
read  much,  and  had  just  the  touch  of  sentiment  and  mys- 
ticism without  which  no  man  can  appeal  absolutely  to  a 
cultivated  woman. 

It  was  long  indeed  since  Clare  had  talked  of  the  things 
she  now  spoke  about  to  him.  Her  very  weakness  and  the 
novelty  of  the  situation  contributed  to  unreserve.  She 


DOWN   WITH   FEVER.  179 

was  alone  ;  she  was  helplessly  dependent  upon  him.  Her 
husband  was  away  ;  had  not  even  written  to  tell  her  of 
his  whereabouts  ;  did  not  appear  to  concern  himself  in  the 
least  whether  she  was  well  or  ill,  cared  for  or  the  reverse. 
There  was  not  another  man,  except  the  two  Chinamen  and 
the  blacks,  in  the  camp  during  these  two  days  anywhere 
near  her.  And  here  was  Geneste,  no  kin,  and  in  no  way 
called  upon  to  consider  her  well-being,  who  had  come  over 
because  he  feared  all  might  not  be  well,  and  had  ridden 
all  through  the  night  to  secure  for  her  the  attendance  of  a 
responsible  woman.  She  discerned  in  this  proceeding  a 
delicate  chivalry,  which  appealed  to  her  in  a  manner  which 
would  perhaps  have  been  foreign  to  Geneste's  own 
thoughts  of  the  matter,  and  who  tended  her  as  her  hus- 
band had  never  done — not  from  the  mere  medical  point  of 
view,  which  was  natural  enough,  but  with  all  those  name- 
less attendances  the  sweetness  of  which  lies  in  the  manner 
of  their  doing,  and  with  always  that  undercurrent  of  emo- 
tion of  which,  though  she  could  not  put  it  into  words,  she 
was  acutely  conscious. 

The  next  day  the  fever  had  her  in  its  grip  again.  It 
went  through  all  its  stages — shivering  and  racking  pain 
in  every  limb,  and  then  burning  heat  and  headache,  with 
strange  fancies  and  grotesque  pictures  standing  out  in 
the  darkness  of  closed  eyes  ;  then  laudanum-stupor,  with 
only  the  consciousness  of  pain  and  thirst,  and  of  Geneste 
standing  by,  putting  wet  cloths  to  her  head.  She  was 
feebly  delirious,  though  she  was  unaware  of  it,  and  in  her 
babblings  revealed  herself  to  Geneste, — who  purposely  kept 
Mrs.  Ramm  from  the  room, — with  the  frankness  of  a  child 
telling  its  mother  of  its  sufferings.  His  heart  ached  with 
pity  as  he  listened.  What  a  horrible  misfit  this  was  of 
Fate  !  he  thought,  as  the  sensitive,  scourged  soul  laid  bare 
its  secret  pains  ;  the  agonising  jar  of  companionship  by 
day  and  by  night  with  a  nature  coarse  to  the  core  ;  the 
awakening  to  doom  in  her  early  married  months  ;  the 


180  MRS.   TREGASKISS. 

morbid  hatred  at  times  of  the  children  born  of  such  a  union; 
the  physical  aversion  to  caresses  ;  the  loathing  and  disgust 
of  spirit-laden  breath  ;  the  battle  of  conscience  with  all 
her  womanly  instincts,  and  the  triumph  of  conscience  and 
martyrdom  of  self -repression.  What  a  lonely  life  it  had 
been  !  How  starved,  how  cold,  how  walled  in,  how  beaten 
down  !  He  longed  to  snatch  up  the  fine,  tender  creature 
from  the  defilement  of  her  surroundings  ;  to  bear  her 
away  to  a  refined,  luxurious,  intellectual  home  ;  to  give 
her  the  moral  and  mental  food  her  whole  being  craved  ; 
to  warm  her  with  the  fire  of  passion  ;  to  nourish  her  with 
affection,  till  the  poor,  bruised,  stunted  bud  should  expand 
and  open  forth  into  the  glorious  flower  it  was  meant 
should  gladden  the  world.  "  What  might  she  not  be,"  he 
said  to  himself,  "  to  a  man  who  had  her  heart  ! " 

In  that  hour  of  delirium  he  got  to  know  the  woman  her- 
self— and  he  got  to  know,  too,  that  he  loved  her. 

He  was  glad,  very  glad,  that  he  loved  Clare  Tregaskiss. 
Fifteen  years  before,  he  had  loved  a  woman  of  loose  morals 
madly — so  madly  that  but  for  the  accidental  discovery  of 
her  faithlessness  and  utter  venality  he  would  have  married 
her.  Now  he  loved  a  good  woman,  not  so  recklessly,  but 
with  an  even  surpassing  fervour.  He  was  glad  to  experi- 
ence the  emotion  which  he  had  believed  would  never  now 
come  into  his  life. 

For  fifteen  years  he  had  foresworn  love  in  its  finer  ac- 
ceptation. During  the  first  six  or  seven  of  these  years, 
adventure,  danger,  and  the  excitement  of  exploration  had 
been  the  safety-valve  for  his  restless  energies.  Women  he 
had  not  needed.  In  fact,  he  had  turned  from  all  that 
reminded  him  of  his  life  of  civilisation  with  an  intense 
revulsion.  Then,  during  two  years  when  he  had  lived  at 
the  northern  extremity  of  Leichardt's  Land,  he  had  taken 
to  himself  a  graceful  South-Sea  Island  girl,  for  whom,  till 
she  was  killed  tragically  by  a  shark  while  bathing,  he  had 
entertained  an  animal  and  half  contemptuous  affection. 


DOWN  WITH  FEVER.  181 

Looking  back  upon  this  episode  since  the  dawning  upon 
birn  of  Clare  Tregaskiss,  be  felt  a  curious  sbame.  After 
the  girl's  death  be  made  his  great  expedition  across  the 
northern  neck  of  the  colony,  through  a  barbarous  country 
and  hostile  natives,  from  gulf  to  ocean,  and  it  was  then 
be  had  received  the  spear-wound  which  lamed  him  for 
life.  The  hurt  had  caused  a  troublesome  and  dangerous 
inflammation,  and  bad  put  a  stop  to  the  wild  exploration 
be  had  delighted  in.  During  his  forced  inaction  be  had 

o  o 

taken  up,  in  a  measure,  bis  old  scholarly  and  scientific 
pursuits,  and  the  former  man  bad  begun  gradually  to  re- 
place the  new  one.  He  bad  even  bad  vague  thoughts  of 
going  back  to  England.  There  was  no  question  now  of 
lung  delicac}r.  He  was  not  yet  beyond  the  prime  of  life, 
and  might  still  have  a  successful  career  before  him.  The 
Australian  career  had  not  been,  in  the  financial  sense,  a 
success  ;  but  he  had  private  means,  and  this  did  not  trouble 
him.  Besides,  Darra-Darra,  which  was  not  heavily  en- 
cumbered like  Mount  Wombo,  might  turn  out  a  profit- 
able investment  when  times  got  better  and  successive 
droughts  were  followed  by  years  of  plenty.  It  was  in 
this  wavering  mood,  when  be  had  half  resolved  to  take  a 
trip  to  England  and  look  round  him  before  making  a  final 
decision  as  to  his  future,  that  he  met  Helen  Cusack.  He 
had  got  into  a  way  of  riding  over  pretty  often  to  Brinda 
Plains,  which  was  about  as  far  on  the  other  side  of  Darra- 
Darra  as  Mount  Wombo  was  on  this  one,  mainly  because 
the  number  of  hands  employed  there  and  the  prevalence, 
during  the  winter,  of  an  influenza  epidemic,  had  called  for 
bis  professional  services,  which  he  gave  gratuitously  when 
required.  Mrs.  Cusack  bad  been  rather  seriously  ill,  and 
tluring  that  time  he  bad  seen  much  of  Helen.  Even  before 
the  scene  in  the  garden,  it  had  crossed  bis  mind  as  a  not 
unpleasing  possibility  that  he  might  marry  her  and  take 
her  with  him  to  England.  But  for  that  sudden  jerk  of 
the  bit,  when  he  had  been  brought  face  to  face  with  facts 


182  MRS.    TREGASKISS. 

and  consequences,  the  possibility  might  have  become  a 
reality.  It  might  still  have  become  so  later, — for  in  a 
reactionary  impulse  his  mood  had  swayed  to  the  girl  and 
to  the  joys  of  domestic  life, — but  there  had  intervened  the 
meeting  with  Mrs.  Tregaskiss  at  Cedar  Hill,  and  their 
strange  night  talk  at  The  Grave  camp,  and  his  fate  was 
sealed,  and  Helen's  light  was  henceforth  obscured. 

In  this  case  there  was  no  reaction,  nor  were  there  any 
doubts.  He  acknowledged  to  himself,  without  hesita- 
tion, that  he  loved  her.  He  told  himself  also  that  his  plan 
of  going  to  England  must  remain  for  some  time,  at  any 
rate,  unfulfilled.  It  would  be  his  duty  to  himself  and  to 
her,  as  well  as  his  joy,  to  stay  on  the  Leura,  and  to  do  his 
best  to  make  life  more  bearable  to  her.  He  had  no  base 
motives.  He  meant  no  harm.  She  was  the  last  woman 
with  whom  he  could  associate  any  unworthy  desire.  It 
should  be  a  case  of  beautiful  platonics.  He  loved  her. 
There  was  nothing  disgraceful  in  that.  There  would  be 
no  shame  for  her  if  it  were  that  she  loved  him.  Some- 
thing told  him  that  she  did,  or  if  not  yet,  that  he  would 
not  have  long  to  wait.  Why  should  they  not  love  each 
other  ?  Her  lot  was  hard,  her  life  very  lonely.  In  the  true 
sense  of  the  word,  she  was  not  married  at  all.  All  that  she 
owed  was  the  mere  material  obligation.  From  nature  and 
temperament  her  lawful  possessor  was  quite  incapable  of 
appreciating  the  treasure  which  a  caprice  of  destiny  had 
allotted  him.  He  foresaw  for  her  even  worse  times  than 
she  had  already  undergone.  The  drink  habit  was  gi'owing 
upon  Tregaskiss,  as  it  is  apt  to  do  in  Australia  upon  men  who 
have  combined  it  with  what  is  called  a  "  touch  of  the  sun." 
Geneste  had,  from  rumour  and  observation,  made  himself 
sure  of  that.  This  vice  might  be  followed  by  other  vices. 
Geneste  knew,  though  he  had  concealed  his  knowledge 
from  Clare,  that  the  flirtation  with  Miss  Lawford,  begun 
during  Mrs.  Tregaskiss'  absence  in  Port  Victoria,  was  be- 
ing commented  on  in  the  district,  and  was  a  source  of 


DOWN  WITH  FEVER.  183 

uneasiness  to  Mrs.  Cusack.  He  knew,  too,  that  instead  of 
being  at  Ilgandali  with  the  Pastoralist  Committee,  Tregas- 
kiss  was  spending  most  of  his  time  at  the  Ococks,  where 
Miss  Lawford  was  paying  a  holiday  visit. 

There  was,  Geneste  gleaned,  a  good  deal  of  gossip  rife 
about  the  Tregaskisses.  Clare  was  a  woman  to  pique  curios- 
ity, and  Tregaskiss'  loud  manner,  his  dash  and  his  good-look- 
ing bloated  face  and  fine  Viking  physique,  attracted  atten- 
tion wherever  he  went.  Geneste  could  understand  that  he 
might  dominate  a  little  hysterical  brunette  like  Miss  Law- 
ford.  It  seemed  to  be  only  of  late  that  he  had  developed 
a  liking  for  the  society  of  women  of  a  certain  rollicking 
type,  and  he  did  not  confine  his  attention  to  Miss  Lawford. 
There  was  an  inn  at  Ugandan,  kept  by  an  Irish  widow  and 
two  daughters,  where  he  put  up,  and  where  the  young 
women  afforded  him  amusement,  of  a  harmless  kind,  it  is 
true,  but  which  gave  rise  to  reports  derogatory  to  the  dig- 
nity of  Clare  Tregaskiss'  husband.  Though  it  was  generally 
known  that  Tregaskiss  was  heavily  in  debt  to  the  bank, 
it  was  known  also  that  he  spent  a  good  deal  of  money  on 
imported  cattle,  on  wire  fencing,  the  construction  of  bores, 
and  in  other  less  useful  ways.  Some  people  did  not  scruple 
to  declare  that  before  long  he  would  be  sold  up  ;  others 
maintained  that  he  could  not  keep  race  horses,  throw  his 
money  about  at  the  township,  and  talk  so  big,  if  he  were 
not  all  safe.  Though,  to  be  sure,  the  keeping  of  race 
horses  for  the  northern  meetings  is  not  the  reckless  outlay 
it  might  appear.  Still,  there  are  concomitant  expenses 
•which  mount  up  the  total.  And  then,  the  world  did  not 
realise  that  Tregaskiss  always  talked  big — except  to  his 
wife.  It  was  an  article  of  his  social  philosophy  so  to  do. 
He  had  made  his  way  in  England  through  talking  big  on 
occasions,  and  he  had  won  Clare  Gardyne  by  talking  big 
about  the  disinterestedness  of  his  devotion  for  her. 

Three  days  passed.  Shand  and  the  butchers  were  still  at 
the  out-station,  and  Tregaskiss  did  not  come.  The  fever 


184  MRS.   TREGASKISS. 

had  its  periodical  term,  and  though  this  time  it  was  less 
severe,  Mrs.  Tregaskiss  was  weaker.  Geneste  did  all  that 
was  possible  to  keep  up  her  strength.  He  killed  a  calf,  and 
himself  superintended  Ah  Sin  in  the  making  of  broth  and 
jelly.  He  beat  up  eggs  with  brandy,  and  hour  by  hour 
poured  nourishment  down  her  throat.  When  free  from 
pain,  except  for  the  prostration,  she  was  quite  happy.  In 
those  three  days  she  seemed  to  live  a  lifetime,  and  past 
and  future  were  annihilated,  and  the  present  had  the  luxu- 
rious fantasy  of  an  opium  dream.  As  a  matter  of  fact 
the  laudanum  which  he  gave  her  had  much  to  do  with  this 
impression. 

A  day  or  two  later  he  got  her  on  to  the  sofa  in  the  draw- 
ing-room', and  there  were  long  idle  talks  in  which  she 
learned  much  of  him  and  he  much  of  her.  In  detail  she 
told  him  little,  but  the  side  lights  which  her  conversation 
gave  were  vividly  illuminating. 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

"  YOU    OUGHT   NOT    TO    HAVE    SAID    THAT." 

BUT  the  interlude  must  come  to  an  end.  Geneste  had 
been  a  week  at  Mount  Worabo,  and  Clare  was  on  the  fair 
way  to  recovery.  The  fever  attacks  had  become  less  and 
less,  and  the  days  of  respite  now  only  a  dreamy  pleasure. 
She  spent  them  mostly  on  a  hammock  in  the  upper  veranda. 
The  passion  creeper  and  native  cucumber  made  a  shade 
from  the  sun  and  threw  wavering  reflections  upon  the 
boards.  The  scent  of  some  untimely  sandal-wood  blos- 
soms floated  up  from  the  enclosure. 

There  had  been  a  storm  somewhere — over  Lake  Eungella 
probably,  for  alas  it  had  not  travelled  to  the  plains,  which 
were  brown  and  bare,  while  the  cattle  were  bogging  in  the 
fast-drying  water-holes  and  dying  of  thrist  and  want  of 
grass.  But  the  distant  storm  had  at  least  cooled  the  air  a 
little,  and  there  was  a  faint  breeze  which  made  mosquitoes 
cling  to  the  ceilings.  Clare  Tregaskiss,  in  her  china  silk 
tea-gown,  with  her  delicate  refined  face,  her  creamy  skin, 
and  deep  brown  eyes,  which  had  yellow  lights,  looked  her- 
self not  unlike  a  languorous  tropical  flower.  She  had  a 
piece  of  needlework  in  her  hand,  but  made  very  few  stitches. 
Geneste  sat  beside  her.  He  had  been  down  to  the  China- 
man's garden;  and  was  preparing  a  granadilla,  while  Ning 
stood  by,  the  two  dolls  hunched  under  her  arm,  watching 
the  operation  with  deep  interest.  The  baby,  lying  on  a 
mat  at  the  other  end  of  the  veranda,  was  crowing  up  to 
Claribel,  who  made  blacks'  noises  for  its  amusement,  Lona, 
the  other  half-caste,  and  her  pickaninny  down  below  join- 

185 


186  MRS.    TREGASKISS. 

ing  in  every  now  and  then  with  a  guttural  "  Yucke  !  My 
word,  that  budgery  fellow  !  " 

The  sun  was  getting  near  its  setting.  In  the  storm 
quarter  a  low  ridge  of  clouds  was  rising.  The  straight 
black  gidia  trunks  cast  heavy  shadows,  and  their  silveiy- 
gray  foliage  had  a  livid  look.  The  usual  group  of  horses 
had  gathered  round  the  smoking  rubbish  heap,  and  the 
milkers,  a  scanty  herd  in  these  dry  times,  were  being  driven 
up  to  the  yard.  Presently  there  was  the  sound  of  a  stock- 
whip cracking,  and  a  long  "Coo-ee,"  and  then  Tommy 
George,  leading  a  pack-horse,  appeared  jogging  through  one 
of  the  gidia  clearings.  He  called  out  something  to  Lona, 
who  took  up  the  story. 

"  My  word,  missus  !  mine  think  it  massa  come  along 
directly." 

Clare  half  rose.  She  had  turned  very  pale.  Her  low 
exclamation  had  in  it  a  sound  of  dread.  Geneste  did  not 
stop  his  scooping  of  the  granadilla.  He  sugared  the  dainty 
mess  and  put  it  before  her. 

"Keith  is  coming,"  she  said. 

"  Yes.  Lie  still.  I  won't  have  you  getting  up  to  meet 
him.  Besides,  he  isn't  here  yet.  I'll  go  and  ask  Tommy 
George." 

He  went  out.  When  he  had  gone  Clare  sank  back  again  ; 
and  a  patch  of  red  rose  in  each  of  her  cheeks.  She  called 
Ning  to  her  and  gave  her  the  granadilla.  "  Here,  child  ! 
I  don't  want  it." 

Ning  took  the  fruit  and  ate  it  slowly,  watching  her  mother 
all  the  while  with  solemn  inquisitiveness.  "  Murnmy  no 
glad  that  daddy  is  coining  back,"  she  said. 

"  Oh,  you  cruel  little  wretch  !  "  Clare  cried  passionately; 
"  what  makes  jon  say  such  things  ?  " 

Ning  stared  still  more.  Such  ebullitions  in  her  mother 
were  rare. 

"  Mine  plenty  glad  daddy  come  back,"  she  said,  with 
fitoic  contentment.  "  What  for  mummy  not  glad  ?  " 


"  YOU  OUGHT  NOT  TO  HAVE  SAID  THAT."       187 

"  01),  go  away  !  "  cried  Clare.  "  Go  and  play  with  Clari- 
bel.  Go,  all  of  you,  and  meet  daddy  down  by  the  Cross- 
ing !  "  and  Ning  departed,  her  solemn  gaze  haunting  her 
mother  after  she  had  disappeared,  like  an  accusing  ghost. 

After  a  little  while  Geneste  returned.  "  He  will  not  be 
here  just  yet.  Tommy  George  left  him  at  the  bore  and 
pushed  on  to  tell  you.  Well,  I'm  glad  I  shall  see  Tregas- 
kiss  before  I  leave.  I  was  meaning  to  go  back  to  Darra 
to-morrow." 

She  said  not  a  word.  When  he  looked  at  her,  he  saw 
that  her  chest  was  heaving  slightly  and  her  eyes  bright 
with  unrestrained  tears. 

"  Clare,"  he  said  softly,  putting  out  his  hand  and  touch- 
ing hers  as  it  lay  on  the  edge  of  the  hammock,  "don't 
fret.  Things  aren't  worth  it." 

"  You  don't  understand,"  she  answered  huskily. 

"  Yes,  I  do  ;  utterly,  better  perhaps  than  you  know. 
But  you  can't  alter  facts  or  temperaments.  You  cannot 
make  a  fine  steel  instrument  do  the  work  of  a  fencer's 
auger.  All  you  can  do  is  to  harden  yourself,  and  to  accept 
life  as  it  is.  If  you  are  disappointed  at  not  finding  sym- 
pathy where  you  have  a  right  to  look  for  it,  take  your  right 
also  to  accept  it  from  elsewhere.  Harden  yourself  to  the 
inevitable." 

"  Haven't  I  been  doing  that  for  ten  years  ?  " 

"  Outwardly,  yes ;  but  within  there  have  been  ravening 
wolves.  Oh,  I  know  it  is  all  very  well  to  give  advice. 
It's  like  saying  there  is  no  hurt  when  one  is  racked  with 
pain.  Do  you  suppose  my  heart  hasn't  bled  for  you  these 
days  ?  God  knows,  I'd  give  the  best  part  of  my  life  if  I 
could  only  make  things  different  for  you." 

"  Don't — don't !  "  she  gasped  hysterically.  "  I  can't  bear 
it.  You  can't  imagine  what  it  is  to  live  always  like  that. 
It  seems  worse  when  one  has  been  free  for  a  little  while." 

"  Yes,  yes  !     Indeed  I  know." 

"  I  can  stand  it  better  after  it  has  gone  on  day  by  day, 
13 


188  MRS.   TREGASKISS. 

for  months.     But  when  it  comes  fresh  -     The   smell  of 
brandy  !     I   hate   him   to   kiss   me.     And    then  —  he   gets 


She  stopped  and  turned  away  her  face. 

"  Oh,  I  know  ;  it  is  horrible."  A  thought  struck  him. 
"  Tell  me  :  his  temper  is  bad  at  times.  Has  he  ever  - 
Is  he  ever  violent  to  you  ?  " 

"Violent?" 

"  I  mean  has  he  ever  ill-used  you  —  struck  you  ?  That 
kind  of  thing?" 

"  No,  not  personal  violence.  He  has  been  rough,  but  he 
is  sorry  afterward.  Why  do  you  ask  ?  " 

"  I  was  wondering.  If  it  were  a  question  -  You  know 
there  are  causes  for  which  the  law  gives  an  ill-used  wife 
her  freedom." 

"I  know  ;  but  there  could  be  no  question  of  that.  Don't 
speak  of  it." 

They  were  both  silent.  The  words  they  had  spoken  to 
each  other  marked  an  immense  leap  in  their  intimacy. 
They  had  before  discussed  Tregaskiss  increasing  habit  of 
inebriety,  which,  month  by  month,  week  by  week,  had  in 
the  last  two  years  gained  a  stronger  hold  on  him. 

"I  have  done  all  I  can,"  she  said.  "I  have  begged, 
implored,  reasoned,  everything.  But  it  doesn't  seem  to  be 
of  the  least  use,  and  I  think  my  speaking  of  it  at  times 
makes  him  almost  hate  me.  Then  there  is  something  I 
learned  not  very  long  ago  —  quite  by  accident  ;  he  had 
always  kept  it  from  me.  His  father  died  of  drink.  I 
believe  that  a  curse  of  that  kind  is  often  hereditary.  I 
wish  I  didn't  ;  it  makes  me,"  —  she  lowered  her  voice  and 
her  pained  eyes  glanced  toward  him  for  a  moment,  —  "  it 
makes  me  frightened  for  the  children.  I  dread  their  com- 
ing. I  prayed  so  that  this  might  be  a  bo}r,  and  like  me. 
Life  is  always  harder  for  women.  Oh,"  she  went  on  pas- 
sionately, "such  things  shouldn't  be  allowed  !  Marriage  is 
awful,  —  it  is  wicked,  —  when  it's  a  marriage  like  mine." 


"YOU  OUGHT  NOT  TO  HAVE  SAID  THAT."       189 

"I  entirely  agree  with  you.  But  you  must  not  distress 
yourself  about  the  idea  of  hereditary  tendency.  You 
have  told  me  of  the  slight  sunstroke  he  had.  That  often 
causes  a  want  of  self-control.  I  wish  you  could  persuade 
him  that  he  is  not  well,  and  get  him  to  consult  me.  I 
might  be  able  to  do  something — for  the  moment  at  any 
rate — to  make  things  easier  for  you." 

"  He  is  so  strong — he  glories  in  his  strength — it  would  be 
difficult  to  persuade  him.  It  isn't  fair  to  trouble  you  so," 
she  exclaimed.  "  Why  should  you  worry  about  me  and 
mine  ?  " 

"Because  I  love  you,"  he  answered,  with  perfect  calm- 
ness, not  moving  in  the  least  toward  her,  or  touching  her 
hand  again,  only  looking  at  her  full,  with  a  sudden  lighten- 
ing and  glowing  of  his  eyes. 

She  met  the  look,  her  own  eyes  deepening  and  held  by 
his  as  though  she  were  succumbing  to  some  mesmeric 
force.  It  was  a  long  gaze,  and  he  read  in  it  all  he  wanted 
to  know.  Presently  she  drew  herself  back  with  a  slight 
shudder. 

"You  ought  not  to  have  said  that.  You  must  never 
say  it  again." 

"I  will  not,"  he  answered.  "I  will  never  say  it  till  you 
tell  me  that  I  may.  But  I  wanted  you  to  know  it ;  I  wanted 
you  to  understand  that  there  is  nothing  you  could  ask  of 
me — nothing,  which  it  would  not  be  a  joy  and  a  privilege 
to  me  to  do." 

He  got  up  and  walked  to  the  veranda  railing  without 
another  word.  There  he  stood  for  several  minutes  looking 
out  upon  the  plain. 

"I  see  your  husband  coming,"  he  said.  "I  will  go  out 
and  meet  him  and  explain  your  illness  to  him,  and  why  I 
am  here." 

His  self-possession  gave  her  confidence,  and  his  silence 
appealed  to  her  as  no  words  could  have  done.  Her  own 
pulses  were  tingling,  and  her  heart  seemed  to  leap  and 


190  MRS.    TREGASKISS. 

throb  in  an  agony  of  happiness.  It  was  so  terrible,  this 
thing  which  had  befallen  her,  but  it  was  heavenly  sweet. 

"  Oh,  I  do  love  him  !  "  she  said,  in  a  whisper  to  herself. 
"  I  do  love  him,  with  all  my  soul." 

The  revelation  had  come  upon  her  with  a  shock,  and  yet 
with  a  sense  of  half  conscious  foreknowledge.  It  was  all 
clear  now,  and  she  understood  the  power  this  man  had 
exercised  over  her  from  the  first.  Looking  back  it  seemed 
to  her  that  she  had  loved  him  from  the  moment  in  which 
she  had  opened  her  eyes  from  her  swoon  in  the  inn  at 
Cedar  Hill,  and  had  seen  the  strong  lined  face,  with  its 
eagle  look  and  piercing  gaze,  bent  over  her.  She  knew 
now  what  had  made  her  speak  out  to  him  about  herself  as 
she  had  never  spoken  to  any  other  human  being ;  under- 
stood now  her  vague  jealousy  of  Helen  Cusack  ;  knew  why 
the  burden  of  her  marriage  and  her  motherhood  had  of 
late  seemed  more  intolerable.  It  was  only  nature  speak- 
ing, and  nature's  eternal  and  unconquerable  law  defying 
the  creed  of  conventions.  The  truth  flashed  upon  her  in 
a  moment.  The  quiet  masterfulness  of  his  abrupt,  yet 
composed,  declaration  had  given  her  no  time  for  analysis, 
self-reproach,  or  indignation.  He  had  not  even  asked  her 
if  she  loved  him.  He  had  demanded  nothing  in  return  for 
his  love.  He  had  only  told  her  of  it  that  she  might  not 
scruple  to  make  use  of  him  in  any  way  that  she  pleased. 
There  was  nothing  to  make  her  alarmed  or  angry;  nothing 
which  did  not  cause  him  to  stand  out  in  her  imagination 
as  a  very  knight  of  chivalry. 

Angry  with  him  !  When  he  had  brought  and  laid  at 
her  feet  that  which  all  her  life  she  had  held  as  almost  too 
sacred  for  common  earth — that  which  she  and  Gladys  had 
so  mistakenly  renounced  as  an  ideal  impossible  of  realisa- 
tion. Though  she  had  bidden  him  never  speak  those 
words  again,  they  would  make  music  in  her  heart  for  evei-- 
more  :  "  I  love  you — I  love  you." 

She  was  essentially  a  pure  woman,  notwithstanding  the 


"YOU  OUGHT  NOT  TO  HAVE  SAID  THAT."       191 

struggles  in  her  of  latent  capacity  for  passion.  The 
thought  of  unfaithfulness  to  her  husband  did  not  occur  to 
her — unfaithfulness  in  the  material  sense  ;  of  spiritual 
infidelity  there  could  be  none,  for  the  spiritual  bond  had 
never  existed.  As  she  lay  back  again  in  her  hammock, 
bathed  in  the  stream  of  beatitude  which  flowed  over  her 
whole  being,  she  forgot  everything  but  the  one  blessed 
and  glorious  fact  that  had  come  into  her  life  and  trans- 
figured it.  She  forgot  that  her  bondage  was  still  upon 
her,  that  her  husband  would  be  .with  her  in  a  few  moments, 
and  that  his  children  and  hers  were  welcoming  him  home. 

The  sun  was  setting ;  the  storm-clouds  had  spread 
higher  and  looked  lurid  from  the  red  reflection.  Ning's 
voice  sounded  below,  then  Tregaskiss'  shout  :  "  Hallo, 
Pickanniny  !  "  and  with  it  Clare  awakened  to  reality.  She 
got  out  of  the  hammock,  and  was  standing  uncertainly, 
flushed  and  agitated,  when  her  husband's  heavy  step 
sounded  on  the  veranda  stair,  and  presently  he  was  beside 
her.  Geneste  had  remained  below. 

"  Well,  Clare,"  he  said,  "  how  are  you  ?  Geneste  tells 
me  you've  had  a  touch  of  fever.  I  don't  believe  there 
can  have  been  much  the  matter.  "  By  Jove,  you  have 
got  quite  a  colour !  I  never  saw  you  looking  better." 

He  put  his  big  red  hands  on  her  shoulders  and  kissed  her 
in  a  rough,  perfunctory  sort  of  way.  She  was  oddly  struck 
by  a  certain  curious  difference  in  the  manner  of  his  caress. 
She  could  not  have  defined  wherein  it  lay,  but  was  conscious 
of  it,  as  a  woman  is  intuitively  conscious  of  any  variation  in 
the  mood  toward  her  of  her  life  companion,  whether  the 
companionship  be  congenial  or  the  reverse.  The  old  thrill 
of  repulsion  deepened  in  her  with  the  whiff  of  stale  brandy 
in  his  breath.  She  was  sure  he  had  been  drinking  rather 
heavily  ;  his  handsome  face  was  red  and  pufly,  his  eyes 
bloodshot,  and  there  was  more  than  the  usual  want  of 
nicety  in  his  dress  and  appearance,  which  confirmed  the 
impression.  His  voice,  too,  had  an  indescribable  thickness, 


192  MRS.   TREGASKISS. 

and  in  bis  manner  there  was  suppressed  irritability,  mingled 
with  something  roystering,  a  characteristic  of  it  accen- 
tuated now  to  a  greater  degree  than  was  customary. 

"What  has  Geneste  been  doing  here  all  this  time  ?"  he 
asked  sharply  ;  and  she  winced  under  the  fierce  gleam  of 
his  eyes.  He  noticed  the  sign  of  discomposure.  "  It's  all 
nonsense  about  his  doctoring  you.  I  don't  believe  in  that 
sort  of  thing." 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?  "  she  asked  resentfully. 

"He  could  have  doctored  you  and  gone  back  again. 
Lots  of  people  have  fever  and  go  about  just  the  same,  ex- 
cept when  the  shakes  are  on  them.  And  fellows  have  been 
talking — sniggering  and  making  remarks  about  his  devo- 
tion to  his  patient.  It  isn't  as  if  he  was  a  regular  doctor. 
The  butchers  started  it  Ilgandah  way,  and  Cusack,  with 
his  infernal  impudence,  chaffed  me  about  leaving  you  to 
be  sick-nursed  by  a  good-looking  man." 

"  Is  that  why  you  came  home  ?" 

"  I  came  to  see  how  you  were,  and  to  send  Geneste 
about  his  business.  I  don't  choose  him  to  be  hanging 
round  making  love  to  my  wife.  He  is  not  such  a  tremen- 
dous saint,  as  they  could  tell  you  further  north." 

She  reddened,  but  restrained  the  indignant  impulse  to 
contradict  him. 

"  It's  beastly  cheek  !  "  Tregaskiss  went  on.  "  I  was  very 
much  annoyed  at  his  way  of  speaking  to  me  just  now. 
Seemed  to  imply  that  I  had  been  to  blame.  Does  he  sup- 
pose I  am  going  to  stand  still  and  have  my  property 
destroyed  without  stirring  a  hand  to  prevent  it?" 

Tregaskiss  fumed  on.  In  a  calmer  mood  it  might  have 
been  evident  to  her  that  his  dissatisfaction  had  its  rise 
partly  in  jealousy,  partly  in  self-reproach.  She  stood  still 
silent,  a  rush  of  conflicting  emotions  torturing  her.  She 
was  inwardly  shame -stricken,  indignant,  choked  with  a 
passionate  aversion  for  her  husband,  all  the  keener  because 
the  accusation  had  not  been  unfounded,  and  she  was  unable 


"YOU  OUGHT  NOT  TO  HAVE  SAID  THAT."       193 

to  stand  forth  and  contemptuously  repudiate  it.  For  it 
was  true  that  Geneste  had  told  her  lie  loved  her.  But  that 
"he  had  made  love  to  her  "  !  No  ;  that  he  had  not  done, 
would  never  do.  She  felt  outraged  ;  her  holy  of  holies 
had  been  desecrated.  An  abominable  construction  had 
been  put  upon  what  to  her  was  sacred.  This,  in  other  and 
minor  matters,  had  always  been  the  case  when  her  finest 
self  had  come  into  contact  with  Tregaskiss'  coarser  per- 
sonality. Now  the  feeling  gained  a  new  acuteness  from 
the  sanctity  of  the  emotion  upon  which  he  was  trampling. 
She  said,  at  last,  in  a  studiously  quiet  voice  : 
"  If  you  want  to  know  whether  I  have  been  ill  or  not, 
you  have  only  to  ask  Mrs.  Ramm.  Dr.  Geneste  rode  all 
the  way  and  back  to  their  camp  one  night  to  fetch  her.  It 
is  his  care  which  has  probably  saved  me  from  a  bad  time. 
You  will  remember  that  when  he  came  over  I  was  alone, 
except  for  the  Chinamen  and  Claribel  and  'Gusta.  Not 
even  Mr.  Shand  was  here.  That  was  why  he  stayed.  As 
to — the  other  part,  I  have  nothing  to  say.  I  think  you 
must  have  exaggerated  Mr.  Cusack's  chaff,  which  could 
not  have  been  meant  as  you  put  it.  I  believe  Dr.  Geneste 
means  to  go  back  to  Darra  to-morrow.  Please,  Keith,  for 
your  own  sake  as  well  as  mine,  do  not  be  rude  to  him,  for 
he  has  done  us  both  a  great  kindness,  and  I  am  sure  you 
would  be  sorry  afterward  if  you  offended  him." 

She  walked  past  Tregaskiss  into  her  own  room,  without 
waiting  for  him  to  repty.  Then  she  became  terrified  lest 
he  should  follow  her,  but  he  did  not  come.  Something 
down  below  attracted  his  attention,  and  he  yelled  out  a 
reprimand  to  one  of  the  black  boys,  and  presently  went 
noisily  down  the  stairs.  By  and  by  she  heard  him  in  the 
back  veranda  asking  Geneste  quite  good  humoredly  to 
come  in  and  have  a  nip  before  dinner.  His  anger  had 
been  only  bluster,  and  she  need  not  have  alarmed  herself  ; 
Tregaskiss,  like  most  bullies,  was  a  moral  coward. 

came  in  fresh  from  her  bath  to  have  her  white 


194  MRS.  TREGASKISS. 

frock  and  red  sash  fastened.  She  exhibited  a  new  doll 
which  daddy  had  brought  her  from  Ilgandah,  and  which, 
she  told  her  mother,  Miss  Lawford  had  dressed  for  her. 
The  last  piece  of  information  gave  Clare  a  clue  as  to 
Tregaskiss'  delayed  return,  and  she  understood  that  he 
had  been  finding  an  excuse  for  himself  by  blaming  her. 
She  felt  too  contemptuous  to  be  greatly  annoyed.  From 
Tregaskiss'  own  report  to  her  of  earlier  conversations  with 
the  little  governess,  she  knew  that  Miss  Lawford  permitted 
a  freedom  of  flirtation  which  appealed  to  her  husband's 
temperament  and  desire  for  variety.  It  had  never  occurred 
to  her  that  Miss  Lawford's  influence  could  prove  danger- 
ous to  her  own.  She  dressed  for  dinner,  holding  back  the 
hysterical  sobs  which  rose  in  her  throat,  and  mentally  flying 
from  the  vague  terror  with  which  the  situation  impressed 
her.  And  yet,  all  through  her  dressing,  she  was  pervaded 
by  the  thought  that  Geneste's  eyes  would  meet  hers  for 
the  first  time  since  he  had  told  that  he  loved  her,  and  that 
for  the  first  time,  too,  in  her  life,  she  must  play  a  part 
abhorrent  to  her  nature,  that  of  a  wife  with  a  secret  love 
for  another  man  to  conceal. 

Geneste  pitied  her  intensely  when  she  appeared  and  took 
her  place  before  the  tea  tray.  He  saw  how  pale  she  was, 
and  with  what  an  effort  she  kept  her  composure.  He 
avoided  looking  at  her  or  addressing  her  too  directly,  but 
vigorously  sustained  conversation  with  Tregaskiss  and 
Shand,  asking  about  the  late  sale  to  the  butchers,  partic- 
ulars of  the  strike,  the  doings  of  the  Pastoralist  Commit- 
tee, and  the  arrival  of  the  "special"  from  Port  Victoria. 
There  appeared  to  be  a  good  deal  of  talk  and  preparation 
on  both  sides,  with  little  to  show  for  it  in  the  way  of  cause 
or  result.  The  strikers  were  reported  to  have  collected  in 
a  body  for  the  destruction  of  various  stations,  and  for 
summary  vengeance  upon  the  free  labourers  ;  but  as  yet, 
beyond  trying  to  fire  two  woolsheds,  and  the  slaughter  of 
Tregaskiss'  horses,  they  had  done  no  definite  mischief. 


"YOU  OUGHT  NOT  TO  HAVE  SAID  THAT."       195 

"  They  are  afraid  to  tackle  Brinda  Plains  just  yet,"  said 
Tregaskiss,  "  for  old  Cusack  is  in  such  a  blue  funk  that  he 
has  a  force  of  police  round  the  place,  and  makes  all  his 
men  sleep  on  the  veranda,  ready  with  their  fire-arms.  You 
should  hear  Miss  Lawford's  account  ;  it's  rich,  I  can 
tell  you  ! " 

"  Miss  Lawford  is  staying  with  the  Ococks,  I  hear,"  said 
Geneste. 

"  Oh,  I  see  you  know  all  the  Brinda  Plains  gossip,"  cried 
Tregaskiss  boisterously.  "  The  fair  Helen,  I  suppose, 
keeps  you  well  posted.  By  Jove  !  you  know,  she'll  be 
thinking  herself  neglected  for  Mrs.  Tregaskiss,  if  you 
don't  take  care." 

Clare's  face  was  stony,  and  Geneste  took  no  notice  of 
the  insinuation,  but  pointedly  turned  the  conversation  to 
general  topics.  Tregaskiss'  congeniality  had  a  touch  of 
the  malignant.  Geneste  also  noticed  the  change  in  his 
manner,  and  attributed  it  to  the  deepening  effect  of  Miss 
Lawford's  society.  Tregaskiss  was  one  of  those  men  who 
cannot,  under  any  circumstances,  resist  talking  of  the  women 
they  admire.  He  repeated  more  than  one  of  Miss  Law- 
ford's  sallies,  proclaiming  that  she  was  splendid  company, 
and  that  the  .land  commissioner  was  tremendously  gone 
upon  her,  but  hadn't  the  ghost  of  a  chance,  for  Hetty 
Lawford  liked  a  man  who  was  a  man  and  had  some  "go  " 
in  him ;  she  wasn't  one  of  your  die-away  women,  always 
giving  themselves  airs  of  superiority, 

There  was  a  certain  aggressiveness  in  his  tone,  and  as  he 
spoke,  he  glanced  at  his  wife.  It  was  the  "  two  can  play 
at  that  game  "  air  of  a  school  boy,  who  hits  first  to  prevent 
himself  from  being  taken  vengeance  upon.  Tregaskiss' 
methods  were  all  of  the  elementary  kind. 

They  sat  out  in  the  veranda  afterward,  but  Clare  gave 
herself  no  opportunity  for  a  word  apart  with  Geneste,  nor 
did  he  appear  to  seek  any.  The  baby  cried,  and  she  went 
to  her  room  and  sat  with  it  on  her  lap  conscientiously  hush- 


196  MRS.   TREGASKISS. 

ing  it,  and  guarding  it  from  the  mosquitoes,  till  it  slept 
again  ;  all  the  time  with  bitterness  and  revolt  in  her  heart, 
and  yet  a  remorseful  tenderness  for  the  small  helpless  thing 
which  was  bone  of  her  bone,  and  which  she  could  not  cast 
from  her,  living  symbol  though  it  was  of  a  bondage  she 
loathed.  When  she  went  back,  the  night  had  grown  still 
and  muggy,  the  clouds  had  blackened,  and  there  were 
flashes  of  sheet  lightning  gleaming  at  intervals  in  the 
west. 

"  It  means  nothing,"  Geneste  was  saying,  as  she  ap- 
proached. "  These  storms  which  don't  come  off  are  a  bad 
sign." 

"  We  shall  have  to  begin  watering  the  cattle  if  it  goes 
on,"  said  Tregaskiss,  "  and  that  means  extra  hands  and  no 
end  of  expense  and  worry." 

"  They're  dying  fast  out  Brigalow  camp  way,"  put  in 
Shand.  "  Another  drought  like  last  year  will  ruin  the  dis- 
trict." 

"And  the  squatters  too,"  growled  Tregaskiss. 

"  Well,  anyhow,"  said  Geneste,  "you  are  luckier  than  I 
am,  Tregaskiss,  for  you  have  got  one  bore  at  least,  to  fall 
back  upon." 

How  could  he  talk  so  quietly,  when  for  her  the  very  air 
was  full  of  stress  and  thrill,  and  when  her  heart  was  break- 
ing under  the  strain  of  the  position  ?  And  yet  she  admired 
him  for  his  calmness,  which  must  come,  she  assured  herself, 
from  the  very  loftiness  of  his  motive.  He  meant  only  her 
good,  and  desired  nothing  but  the  right  to  help  her  as 
unselfishly  as  he  could.  Surely  she  herself  must  be  a  crea- 
ture of  evil  thoughts  and  wishes  to  be  so  weighed  down 
and  tossed  and  tormented. 

"  Mrs.  Tregaskiss,"  Geneste  said,  turning  to  her,  "you 
should  remember  you  are  only  an  invalid  yet,  and 'ought 
not  to  sit  up  late.  I  shall  have  to  say  good-bye  when  I  bid 
you  good-night,  for  I  am  starting  home  very  early  to-mor- 
row morning." 


"  YOU  OUGHT  NOT  TO  HAVE  SAID  THAT."       197 

"  Good-night,  then,  and  good-bye,"  she  said,  holding  out 
her  hand. 

He  took  it,  and  all  that  night,  his  touch  seemed  to  linger 
with  her  like  a  living  thing. 

"  Good-night !  I  am  very  much  obliged  to  you  for  hav- 
ing had  me  for  so  long,  and  I  shall  leave  feeling  a  good 
deal  more  comfortable  about  you  than  when  I  came.  I 
think  you  are  pretty  safe  now  from  bad  days." 

Clare  answered  with  a  commonplace.  He  had  been  very 
kind.  She  hoped  that  he  would  not  find  station  work  had 
been  neglected  during  his  absence. 

"  Oh,  no  !  I've  got  a  very  good  stockman.  Tregaskiss, 
you  won't  forget  that  you  are  to  bring  Mrs.  Tregaskiss 
over  the  first  opportunity  to  see  my  diggings.  It  would  be 
capital  if  we  could  manage  the  expedition  to  Eungella  at 
the  same  time." 

Tregaskiss  agreed.  He  didn't  see  why  they  shouldn't  do 
it  before  the  worst  heat  had  come  on,  and  they  might  get 
Helen  Cusack  and  Miss  Lawford  to  join,  as  well  asGillespie 
and  Blanchard  and  the  lot  of  them. 

"  Can  I  get  you  a  lamp  or  candle  or  anything?  "  Geneste 
asked  formally,  as  Clare  was  turning  to  her  part  of  the 
house. 

"  No,  thank  you,  I  have  a  lamp  in  my  room,"  she  an- 
swered, and  so  they  parted. 

The  night  was  ghastly,  the  storm  ending  in  wind  and 
dust,  with  low  grumblings  of  distant  thunder  and  faint 
flashes  of  lightning.  Clare  lay  awake,  every  nerve  strained, 
waiting  for  her  husband's  entrance.  When  he  came  she  pre- 
tended to  be  asleep,  but  she  heard  him  heavily  fumbling  with 
his  clothes  and  boots  as  he  undressed,  and  stealthily  crept 
to  the  very  edge  of  the  bed,  holding  herself  quite  still  till 
he  should  be  asleep,  so  that  she  might  get  up  and  go  out  to 
the  hammock  in  the  veranda.  She  did  this  many  nights. 


CHAPTER  XVII. 

FAIR   INES. 

"  WHAT  am  I  to  do  about  Gladys  Hilditcli  ?  "  Clare  said 
one  day  to  her  husband. 

"  Let  her  find  her  own  way  up  from  Port  Victoria,"  he 
answered  crossly.  "  She  is  rich  and  can  afford  to  pay  for 
a  buggy  and  pair  of  horses." 

"  Keith,  wouldn't  it  be  possible  for  you  to  go  and  fetch 
her?" 

"  Not  if  I  know  it.  I've  got  neither  time  nor  animals. 
You  seem  to  forget  that  we  are  ordered  to  keep  ten  horses 
in  the  paddock  in  case  of  the  specials  wanting  them,  and 
that  every  squatter  must  have  a  horse  and  man  in  readiness 
to  give  an  alarm  if  necessary.  Mrs.  Hilditch  can  wait  till 
the  strike  is  over." 

"I  can't  believe  in  the  strike,  or  get  up  any  proper  sense 
of  our  danger,"  said  Clare,  with  a  laugh  that  anno3red  Tre- 
gaskiss.  "  The  unionists  are  only  trying  to  frighten  the 
squatters.  They  say  Mr.  Cusack  is  nearly  over  his  shearing 
and  is  getting  his  wool  loaded,  and  nothing  has  happened." 

"  You  wait  and  see,"  oracularly  replied  Tregaskiss. 
"  Other  people  in  the  district  don't  take  things  so  easily." 

"  Well,  at  any  rate,  here's  Mr.  Chance  who  hasn't  taken 
the  trouble  to  get  in  his  ten  horses  or  to  ask  the  specials  to 
look  after  his  station,"  said  Clare,  turning  to  Cyrus  Chance, 
who,  during  one  of  his  periodic  stoppages  on  his  way  to 
Port  Victoria,  was  present  in  the  veranda  while  the  col- 
loquy took  place. 

"  I'm  no  one  to  get  scared  at  a  screech,  Mistress  Tregas- 
kiss," said  old  Cyrus,  smiling  grimly.  "  The  strikers  know 

198 


FAIR  INES.  199 

that,  and  they  know  too  that  if  they  burned  down  my  wool- 
shed  I'd  buy  up  every  lawyer  in  Leichardt's  Land  to  have 
the  law  on  them,  just  as  I  mean  to  do  to  get  off  my  black 
boy  Andy." 

"  Andy  !  "  repeated  Tregaskiss.  "  Murdered  one  of  his 
tribe,  didn't  he  ?  I  hear  the  police  caught  him  up  Brinda 
way  and  chained  him  to  a  tree  in  the  paddock,  but  he  got 
loose,  and  they  said  some  white  man  must  have  undone  his 
hand-cuffs." 

"Ay,"  returned  Chance,  "it's  true  there  was  a  white 
man  camped  close  by  Brinda  Creek  that  night,  and  he  did 
undo  Andy's  handcuffs.  I'm  a  hard  man,  Mistress  Tregas- 
kiss, and  a  gripper  on  the  whites  as  they  say  up  here,  but 
I've  never  held  with  hunting  down  the  blacks  and  making 
laws  for  them  when  they've  got  their  own  tribe  laws  to  do 
the  work.  Andy  killed  the  other  black  because  he  had 
taken  away  his  gin,  and  that's  his  affair,  say  I,  and  not 
Queen  Victoria's." 

Tregaskiss  laughed.  "  You've  got  a  nipping  way  of 
putting  things,  Chance." 

"It's  likely  that  I  have,  Mr.  Tregaskiss,"  —  Chance 
studiously  made  use  of  the  prefix, — "but  I've  studied 
the  subject  of  colonisation,  and  I've  no  opeenion  of 
Britishers  when  they  get  the  upper  hand  of  savages. 
As  far  as  that  goes,  I  may  be  a  gripper  right  enough, 
and  my  heirs  will  be  the  better  for  it,  but  I  never  wronged 
white  nor  black,  and  I've  made  up  my  mind  to  get  Andy 
off  if  I  pay  for  it  with  all  my  Leura  property.  I  don't  like 
folks  that  go  after  other  men's  wives,  no  more  than  I  like 
folks,  having  wives  of  their  own,  who  go  sweethearting 
other  young  women — of  a  sort." 

The  contempt  of  Mr.  Chance's  "of  a  sort"  pointed 
the  allusion.  Tregaskiss  reddened  angrily. 

"It's  pretty  safe  on  the  Leura,  where  you  haven't  got  to 
put  your  theories  into  practise,  for  a  fellow  to  maintain, 
like  that  speechifying  chap  at  Ilgandah,  that  the  squatters 


200  MRS.   TREGASKISS. 

have  taken  tbe  blacks'  country,  and  are  bound  to  kill  a 
bullock  for  them  every  now  and  then.  I'd  like  to  see  you 
killing  the  bullock,  Chance.  And  that  reminds  me — we're 
very  much  obliged  to  you  for  your  present  to  my  wife  the 
other  day  :  six  bottles  of  porter.  By  Jove,  that  was  a  mag- 
nificent shell  out  for  you,  Chance — quite  the  millionaire 
touch,  eh  !  But  I  think  I  can  afford  to  buy  her  her 
drinks." 

"I'm  glad  to  hear  it,  Mr.  Tregaskiss,"  said  Chance,  his 
small  whitey-brown  face  turning  pale  with  suppressed 
anger.  "  I'm  glad  to  know  you  are  in  such  a  flourishing 
condition.  There  are  reports  going — perhaps  you  may 
have  heard  them — about  the  bank  being  ready  to  come 
down  on  Wombo,  and  I'm  pleased  for  your  wife's  sake  to 
know  that  there  is  no  truth  in  them.  I  think  I'll  say  good- 
day  now,  Mistress  Tregaskiss.  Good-day  to  you,  Mr. 
Tregaskiss  !  I'll  not  trespass  upon  your  hospitality  by  sit- 
ting in  your  veranda  any  longer." 

"  Don't  hurry,"  said  Tregaskiss  sulkily.  "  I'm  off,  and 
since  you  won't  be  neighbourly,  and  take  anything " 

"  No,  I  thank  you,  Mr.  Tregaskiss.  I've  got  ,  my 
damper  and  junk  at  the  camp,  but  if  you've  got  a  bit  of 
green  hide  rope  to  spare,  I'll  be  pleased  to  buy  it  from  you 
for  a  halter  for  one  of  my  pack-horses — at  the  market  price, 
Mr.  Tregaskiss, — at  the  market  price." 

"  Your  price  is  always  a  goodish  bit  below  the  market  one, 
Chance,  and  I  could  afford  to  let  you  have  that  for  noth- 
ing. But  since  you're  so  beastly  proud,  you  can  pay  what 
you  please.  You'll  find  me  out  'by  the  meat  store  when 
you  are  ready."  And  he  went  off. 

"  Your  husband  seems  to  be  more  prosperous  than  folks 
on  the  Leura  give  him  credit  for,  Misti'ess  Tregaskiss," 
said  the  old  man,  eyeing  her  keenly.  "  It  surprises  me,  for 
money  isn't  like  a  boomerang  ;  it  doesn't  come  back  after 
you've  thrown  it  away,  and  times  are  bad." 

Clare  looked  uncomfortable. 


FAIR  INES.  201 

"  Please  don't  mind  what  Keith  says,  Mr.  Chance,  or 
take  him  too  literally." 

"  No,  I  don't ;  no,  I  don't  do  that  !  "  said  Chance,  with  a 
chuckle.  "If  I  had,  he'd  have  done  me  in  the  eye  before 
now.  He  don't  like  me,  nor  I  him." 

"  Well,  at  any  rate,  Mr.  Chance,  you  and  I  will  always 
be  good  friends." 

"  Yes,  that  we'll  be.  And  mind  you  what  I  said  to  you 
last  time  I  was  here.  Nurse  your  babies,  and  turn  'em 
into  blessings,  a?id  remember  this  :  I've  formed  my  own 
opeenions,  and  I  keep  my  mouth  shut  on  'em.  You  needn't 
be  afraid  to  tell  me  if  you're  in  a  bit  of  a  tight  place — I 
wasn't  thinking  in  the  way  of  money,"  he  added  cautiously. 

"  No,  I  know  you  weren't  ;  and  I  shall  remember.  I'm 
rather  in  trouble  now.  My  friend,  Gladys  Hilditch,  is  at 
Port  Victoria,  and  you  heard  what  Keith  said  ;  and  I  am 
wondering  if  you  could  help  me  any  way  to  get  her  up 
here.  Perhaps  Mr.  Cusack,  or  Mr.  Carmody,  or  somebody 
from  one  of  the  stations  may  be  down,  and  would  bring  her 
part  of  the  way,  anyhow.  I  can't  tell  you  how  obliged  I'd 
be  if  you  would  see  and  ask  them  for  me." 

"  Gladys  Hilditch,  Gladys  Hilditch,"  repeated  Chance 
slowly,  with  his  queer  intonation  dwelling  on  her  name. 
"  That's  the  one  I  called  Fair  Ines,  isn't  it  ?  She  that  comes 
from  the  West, 

"  '  To  dazzle  when  the  sun's  gone  down,' 

eh  ?  I  know,  I  know.  Well,  I'm  not  much  in  the  way  of 
womenkind,  Mistress  Tregaskiss.  I  hate  the  lot  of  them, 
and  I  never  knew  a  lady,  so  to  speak,  till  I  came  across  you. 
I've  sometimes  thought  I  may  have  missed  something,  but 
it's  too  late  now.  Fair  Ines  !  I'll  see  if  I  can  do  anything 
for  ye,  Mistress  Tregaskiss,  but  I  won't  promise  to  go  nigh 
the  creatui-e  myself." 

He  departed  with  this  doubtful  promise,  upon  which, 
nevertheless,  Clare  placed  some  reliance.  Sure  enough,  a. 


202  MRS.   TREGASKISS. 

little  while  later  two  riders  might  have  been  seen,  one  after- 
noon at  sunset,  approaching  through  the  gidia  clearing, 
followed  by  a  pair  of  black  boys  driving  several  pack- 
horses  ;  and  one  of  the  riders  was  a  lady  quite  unlike  any 
of  the  Leura  ladies,  and  the  other  C}'rus  Chance. 

Lona,  the  black  gin,  who  was  scout  to  the  establish- 
ment, ran  up  to  tell  the  news.  "  Mine  think  it  that  cobbon 
budgery  White  Mary,"  was  Lena's  announcement.  "  Alto- 
gether lady,  that  fellow.  No  jump-up  fellow,  like  it  some 
Leura  lady  !  "  which  showed  that  Lona  was  a  person  of 
discrimination. 

It  was  Gladys  Hilditch,  Gladys  looking  like  a  queen  in 
exile,  or  a  Burne  Jones  picture  of  a  medieval  lady  on  horse- 
back, minus  the  feathers,  but  for  the  absence  of  those 
Mrs.  Hilditch  amply  atoned  by  a  cunning  arrangement  of 
gauze  upon  her  picturesque  broad -brimmed  hat.  Gladys 
was  nothing,  if  not  picturesque  ;  and  she  had  always  had  the 
knack  of  wearing  original,  becoming,  and  suitable  gar- 
ments, sufficiently  different  from  those  of  anybody  else  to 
give  her  distinction  and  mark  her  individuality.  Any 
other  English  woman  would  have  appeared  in  ordinary 
English  riding  dress,  but  Glady's  gray  habit,  her  coat, 
which  was  a  suggestion  from  the  Louis  Quinze  period,  her 
fine  batiste  shirt,  frilled  with  Point  de  Paris,  and  curved, 
cavalier  hat  were  a  sort  of  incarnation  of  all  South  Kensing- 
ton and  Tite  Street  culture  dropped  suddenly  into  Leura 
"barbarism.  She  was  a  very  beautiful  woman — more  beau- 
tiful now  than  in  the  old  days,  for  during  her  married  life, 
when  she  had  had  money  in  plenty  and  little  else  to  dis- 
tract her,  in  the  early  part  of  it  at  any  rate,  she  had 
brought  the  art  of  dressing  herself  to  perfection.  Her  face 
was  Greek  in  type,  only  less  statuesque,  and  with  the  curv- 
ing back  lips  and  slightly  hollowed  eye  orbits,  which  be- 
long rather  to  the  days  of  chivalry.  She  did  not  look  in 
the  least  dusty  or  dishevelled,  though  she  had  ridden  all 
day  over  the  scorching  plains  ;  her  reddish  yellow  fringe 


FAIR  INES.  203 

was  parted  upon  her  forehead,  and  crinkled  as  evenly  as 
though  it  had  just  been  arranged  by  a  skilful  hairdresser. 
Her  delicate  skin,  smooth  as  the  leaf  of  a  flower,  was  not 
burned  or  roughened  ;  her  eyes,  deep  violet,  limpid,  and 
large,  were  undimmed  by  fatigue  ;  her  thin  gray  habit  was 
immaculate,  her  batiste  unruffled,  and  the  little  et  cetera^  of 
her  toilette — her  double  eye-glass  with  its  long  handle  of 
dull  silver,  her  gray  gauntlet  gloves,  her  jewelled  riding- 
whip,  the  silver  clasp  of  her  coat,  all  truly  seemed  in  keep- 
ing with  the  suggestion  of  a  Fair  Ines  come  to  dazzle  a  more 
primitive  race. 

Seeing  Clare  hurrying  from  the  upper  veranda,  she 
jumped  down  from  her  horse,  not  waiting  for  anyone  to 
help  her,  pulled  off  her  gauntlets,  rubbed  her  rose-petal 
cheeks  lightly  with  a  filmy  handkerchief  that  exhaled  a 
suggestion  only  of  some  rare  and  particularly  refined  per- 
fume, and  was  in  the  arms  of  her  friend. 

"  Dearest  Clare  !  " 

« Oh,  Gladys!" 

"  How  thin  you've  grown,  Clare  ! " 

"And  you — how  young  you  look,  Gladys  !  and  not  in 
the  least  ill !  " 

"  Oh,  I  am  quite  well  now,  and,  dear,  remember,  I  was 
two  years  younger  than  you.  I'm  only  just  thirty,  and 
I've  kept  myself  in  cotton-wool." 

"And  you  are  thinking  I  have  not  done  so.  Am  I  so 
terribly  changed,  Gladys  ?  " 

Gladys  stood  away  and  took  a  long  gaze  before  she 
replied  :  "  Yes — no.  Yes,  of  course,  you  Sphinx  !  You've 

got  a  look  more — more Never  mind,  I'll  explain  when 

I've  made  it  out.  You  are  handsomer  than  you  used  to  be, 
if  that's  what  you  want  to  know,  though  you  are  so  thin  ;  but 
it  suits  j'ou.  You  look  like — like  Sarah  Bernhardt — subtle 
and  suggestive.  Subtlety  is  what  we  are  all  trying  for  in 
these  days,"  Gladys  went  on,  in  her  soft  sweet  monologue, 
"so  you  should  be  satisfied.  As  for  me,  I'm  sick  of  it. 
14 


204  MRS.   TREGASKISS. 

I've  been  done  to  death  with  modernity  and  all  the  rest. 
I've  rushed  out  here  to  be  rid  of  it,  but  if  you  are  going  to 
come  Ibsen's  heroines  over  me,  I  give  up.  I  was  feeling 
quite  enchanted  with  it  all — the  gum  trees,  and  the  niggers, 
and  this  sort  of  thing."  She  gave  a  comprehensive  wave 
of  her  hand.  "It's  a  mixture  of  Miss  Wilkins'  New  Eng- 
land stories  and  the '  Roman  d'un  Spahi.'  I've  been  asking 
that  delightful  specimen  of  an  Australian  man  how  it's 
managed.  He's  a  bit  of  Miss  Wilkins  himself — only 
better." 

She  indicated  with  a  little  nod  of  her  head  Cyrus  Chance 
who  was  standing  by  the  pack-horse  he  had  been  leading, 
watching  her  with  an  odd  smile  on  his  grotesque  face. 
He  looked  more  odd  and  fusty  than  ever,  and  his  slight 
deformity  more  noticeable. 

"  Mr.  Chance,"  said  Mrs.  Tregaskiss,  waking  to  the  fact 
of  his  existence,  "how  am  I  to  thank  you?  This  is  a 
great  surprise.  I  never  dreamed  that  you  would  bring  my 
friend  to  me  yourself." 

"  Oh,  he  wouldn't  have  done  it  if  I  hadn't  insisted," 
exclaimed  Gladys,  "  and  he  wouldn't  have  consented  then, 
but  that  I  threatened  to  unpack  my  Rosalind  costume — I 
played  heroine  in  one  of  the  pastoral  plays,  dear,  modelled 
after  Ada  Rehan — and  ride  after  him  with  the  cowboys,  or 
stockmen,  or  whatever  you  call  them.  He  said  that  wouldn't 
be  becoming  in  an  English  lady.  I  told  him  that  Mary 
Stuart  had  done  it  before  me,  and  that  she  was  a  good  prece- 
dent. But  he  doesn't  approve  of  Mary  Stuart  ;  she  wasn't 
domestic  enough  to  please  him.  He  declares  she  murdered 
Both  well :  we  had  quite  an  argument  over  the  Casket 
Letters.  To  think  of  his  having  gone  into  the  Casket 
Letters  business  !  Then  I  quoted  the  Empress  Theodora  ; 
but  he  was  horrified  at  my  having  read  Gibbon.  Fancy 
his  knowing  Gibbon  !  He  says  he  educated  himself  on 
Bonn's  Library  and  cheap  literature.  He  is  a  perfect 
type.  And  he  hates  women.  I  never  in  all  my  life  came 


FAIR  INES.  205 

across  a  misogynist  before.  I  am  determined  that  he  shall 
riot  hate  me,  for  I  like  him  immensely  ;  and  so  I  am  going 
to  reform  him,  and  I  shall  let  him  try  and  reform  me.  I 
settled  it  for  him  on  the  way  along.  He  wouldn't  talk  to 
me  at  first — wanted  me  to  ride  behind,  between  him  and 
the  black  boys  ;  but  I  said  that  if  he  was  going  to  be  dis- 
agreeable I  should  get  down  and  unpack  rny  Rosalind 
dress  and  put  it  on,  and  that  finished  the  argument." 

Gladys  poured  forth  her  rapid  monologue  in  the  sweetest, 
softest  of  voices,  with  a  touch  of  disdainful  languor  in  her 
tone  which  relieved  her  sprightly  utterances  of  any  trace 
of  flippancy.  Perhaps  one  of  her  charms  lay  in  the  con- 
trast between  her  modern  and  somewhat  redundant  talk 
and  the  angelic  dignity  of  her  face  and  movements. 
Nothing  about  her  went  fast  except  her  tongue,  and 
nevertheless  Clare  knew  she  would  have  long  fits  of  taci- 
turnity when,  as  she  declared^  her  mind  was  kneading  an 
idea. 

"  Oh,  Gladys  !  "  said  Mrs.  Tregaskiss  ;  "  you  have  not 
changed  a  bit." 

"Dear,  yes,  I  have.  Just  wait  till  you  get  to  know. 
I've  been  through  the  mill,  and  I've  come  out  of  it  a  good 
deal  scratched,  but  so  hardened  and  brightened  up  that 
you  don't  see  the  scratches  for  a  while.  I  dare  say  I  seem 
frivolous  at  present.  But  this  is  all  so  enchantingly  new 
and  crude.  I've  enjoyed  myself  ever  since  I  left  conven- 
tionality, in  the  shape  of  my  maid  Parker,  behind  at  Cedar 
Hill,  sitting  on  my  dress-basket  with  cotton-wool  in  her 
ears  to  keep  out  the  swearing  of  the  bullock-drivers.  If 
you  had  seen  her  face  when  they  brought  in  the  saddle- 
bags and  I  told  her  to  pack  my  clothes  in  them  !  Parker 
is  going  to  be  a  trial,  I  am  certain.  I  told  her  to  find 
her  own  way  to  Port  Victoria,  and  back  to  England,  if  she 
liked,  for  she  is  far  too  grand  for  her  surroundings.  Mother 
and  Cassandra  would  have  had  a  fit  at  Cedar  Hill.  The 
mosquito  curtains  and  the  wall-papers  would  have  finished 


206  MRS.   TREGASKISS. 

them.  They  never  get  beyond  the  sesthetics,  and  have  no 
notion  of  dramatic  contrast.  Now,  I  was  always  dramatic — 
even  when  I  married  Mr.  Hilditch." 

Cassandra  was  the  eldest  Miss  Wai-raker,  who  told 
fortunes  by  the  stars,  and  was  generally  romantic  and 
superior. 

They  were  in  the  drawing-room  now,  and  Clare  was 
taking  off  Gladys*  hat  and  veil  and  giving  her  tea,  while 
Ning  stared  with  big  solemn  eyes  at  the  visitor. 

"You  are  a  queer  little  angel,"  said  Gladys,  catching  the 
child  up  and  kissing  her  ;  "I  wish  I  had  one  like  you." 

She  gave  a  sigh,  and  her  astonishingly  young  face 
seemed  for  a  moment  to  grow  as  old  as  its  years.  Clare 
had  heard  that  the  one  child  of  Gladys'  marriage  had  died 
as  a  baby,  and  pressed  her  friend's  hand  sympathetically, 
saying  nothing.  Mr.  Chance's  shuffling  footstep  sounded 
on  the  veranda,  and  presently  he  came  in,  carrying  two 
great  bulging  saddle-bags,  with  the  French  heel  of  one  kid 
shoe  and  the  buckled  toe  of  another  peeping  out  at  the 
aperture  beneath  the  flap.  He  deposited  these  on  the  floor, 
and  stood  looking  at  Mrs.  Hilditch  with  a  sort  of  saturnine 
tenderness.  Fair  Ines  had  come  and  conquered,  and  old 
Cyrus  had  found  the  embodiment  of  his  romantic  dreams 
in  this  dainty  creature  from  a  world  that  he  knew  not. 

"  I'm  thinking,"  he  said, "  that  I'd  better  be  getting  down 
to  my  camp." 

"  Oh,  Mr.  Chance  !  "  cried  Clare,  "  don't  go  yet.  Have 
some  of  my  tea,  and  besides  I  haven't  half  thanked  you 
for  bringing  my  friend.  I  don't  think  I'll  try  ;  you  can 
see  what  a  pleasure  you  have  given  me." 

The  muscles  about  old  Cyrus'  mouth  relaxed  into  an 
expression  of  benevolence.  "Didn't  I  tell  you,"  he  an- 
swered, "that  ye  might  apply  to  me  in  a  difficulty, — short 
of  a  money  one, — and  I'd  see  what  I  could  do  for  you  ?  " 

"  I  don't  think  much  of  you  if  }Tou  wouldn't  help  in  a 
money  difficulty,"  said  Gladys. 


FAIR  INES.  207 

"  It's  an  ill  business  to  beg,  to  borrow,  or  to  lend,"  said 
old  Cyrus  sententiously. 

"Oh,  he's  a  miser,  isn't  he?"  said  Gladys  boldly. 
"That's  what  they  told  me  at  Cedar  Hill.  And  he's 
enormously  rich,  and  could  buy  us  all  out  and  have  a  decent 
competence  over.  Isn't  that  so  ?  " 

"To  buy  us  out  wouldn't  be  saying  a  great  deal," 
answered  Mrs.  Tregaskiss.  "  To  buy  you  out  would  be 
a  different  matter." 

"  My  husband  left  me  five  thousand  a  year,"  said  Mrs. 
Hilditch  gravely  ;  "  and  if  I  marry  again  I  lose  every 
penny  of  it." 

"  Then  take  the  advice  of  old  man  Chance,  leddy,  and 
keep  your  liberty  and  your  siller.  True  enough,  I'm  a 
miser  an'd  a  woman-hater,  but  I'd  have  been  worse  than 
that  if  I  had  given  a  woman  the  right  to  put  her  hand  in 
my  pocket,  for  I'd  have  been  a  beggar.  No,  I  thank  you, 
Mistress  Tregaskiss," — refusing  Clare's  proffered  cup  of  tea, 
— "  I'll  be  having  it  at  the  camp  presently.  Is  the  master 
on  the  place  ?  " 

"  He  went  out  on  the  run  with  Mr.  Shand,"  she  answered, 
"  but  he  ought  to  be  coming  back  now.  I  think  I  hear 
the  dogs  barking." 

"  Then  I'll  be  saying  good-night,"  said  Cyrus. 

Gladys  turned  a  puzzled  look  upon  him. 

"  Mr.  Tregaskiss  isn't  a  woman  /"  she  cried.  "  Why  do 
you  want  to  run  away  from  him?  What  does  he  mean  by 
his  camp,  Clare  ?  Does  he  prefer  camping  to  sleeping  in  a 
house,  or  am  I  turning  him  out  here  ?" 

"  Old  man  Cyrus  Chance  prefers  to  sleep  and  eat  at  his 
own  expense,"  put  in  Chance.  "  I'm  not  saying  that  I 
don't  take  a  meal  off  a  neighbour's  corncobs,  or  a  pumpkin 
that  would  rot  for  want  of  gathering,  but  that's  not  a 
question  of  hospitality.  Good-night,  leddy  !  The  rest  of 
your  pack  is  in  the  back  veranda,  and  I  hope  you'll  not 
find  any  of  your  gewgaws  missing." 


208  MRS.  TREGASKISS. 

"  Listen  !  "  said  Gladys.  "  When  he  knows  that  half  of 
them  are  completely  ruined,  and  that  Parker  would  die  at 
the  sight  of  my  crumpled  tea-gowns.  Two  pairs  of  my 
best  silk  stockings  are  ornamenting  the  gum  trees,  and  the 
Valenciennes  frills  of  my  petticoats  torn  to  shreds  and 
strewing  the  plain.  The  pack-horse  put  down  his  head 
and  kicked  up  his  legs  and  then  bolted.  Away  went  the 
pack,  and  the  black  boys  gathered  up  the  fragments." 

"Silk  gowns  and  fripperies  and  fallals,  the  like  of 
which  was  never  seen  on  the  Leura !  "  said  Mr.  Chance. 
"  You  are  a  deal  too  fine  for  these  parts,  leddy.  But  I 
would  not  have  it  altered.  You're  good  to  look  at,  and  not 
to  be  confounded  with  the  ordinary  ;  and  your  finery  is  just 
a  part  of  yourself." 

"  Hear  him  !  I'm  converting  him  already.  Mi'.  Chance, 
have  you  forgotten  that  I'm  a  woman  ?  " 

"  Eh,  but  you  and  mistress  there  are  a  different  brand 
from  these  other  creatures  of  women,  and  not  to  be  drafted 
into  the  same  yard.  I  don't  count  ye  as  women." 

"  That's  the  prettiest  compliment  I've  ever  had  paid  me," 
returned  Glad}Ts,  and  she  held  out  her  hand  to  him  with 
such  royal  grace  that  old  Cyrus  was  obliged  to  take  it  and 
perform  a  very  awkward  bow  in  doing  so  over  her  out- 
stretched fingers. 

"  Where's  your  camp  going  to  be,  Mr.  Chance  ?  "  she 
asked. 

"  Agen  the  water-hole  ;  close  by  the  blacks'.  They're 
good  company  for  me.  I've  got  Andy  off,  mistress  ;  it 
cost  me  a  pretty  penny." 

"  Well,  I  shall  come  down  after  dinner — or  tea, — I  observe 
that  all  meals  are  tea  here, — and  we'll  have  another  game 
of  knucklebones,"  said  Gladys. 

"  Knucklebones  !  "  repeated  Mrs.  Tregaskiss.  . 

"  It's  his  favourite  dissipation  ;  haven't  you  discovered 
that  ?  He  has  got  the  loveliest  set.  I've  always  longed  to 
play  knucklebones  ;  and  last  night  when  we  were  camping 


FAIR  INES.  209 

out,  he  taught  me.  I  had  some  trouble  to  persuade  him 
that  it  was  not  derogatory  to  my  dignity  as  a  woman." 

"  A  woman  !  "  grunted  Cyrus,  with  an  accent  of  contempt. 
"  Haven't  I  said  I  did  not  count  you  ?  They  don't  know 
your  brand  up  here." 

"  A  goddess,  then — without  the  pedestal.  I  have  no 
objection,  Mr.  Chance,  to  being  a  goddess  since  you  decline 
to  play  knucklebones  with  ordinary  mortals." 

"  Well,  anyhow,"  said  Cyrus,  "  it's  an  innocent  pastime, 
and  takes  skill  ;  and  it's  cheap." 

"And  classic,"  added  Gladys.  "The  Pompeians  played 
knucklebones,  Mr.  Chance.  I've  seen  the  sets — beauties, 
nearly  eighteen  hundred  years  old — in  the  museum  at 
Naples.  You  may  disapprove  of  Mary  Stuart  and  the 
Empress  Theodora,  and  Gibbon,  and  the  rest  of  your  cheap 
literature  people,  but  you  can't  trample  on  the  Pompeians 
— poor  petrified  corpses  ;  they're  too  pathetic." 

The  sounds  of  arrival  became  pronounced.  Clare  Tre- 
gaskiss'  still  smile  might  have  been  carved  in  marble. 

"  This  is  Keith,"  she  said. 

"  Keith  !  "  repeated  Gladys.  "  Oh,  I  forgot !  Your  hus- 
band's name.  I  like  it.  I'm  longing  to  see  him.  It  wasn't 
kind  of  you,  Clare,  to  meet,  marry,  and  go  off  with  him 
that  year  I  was  in  Switzei'land.  I've  often  pictured  to  my- 
self the  kind  of  man  for  whom  you  gave  up  all  the  joys  of 
civilisation  :  tall  and  stately,  brave,  simple,  tender — intel- 
lectual of  course  ;  scorning  the  falsehoods  and  insincerity 
of  society  that  you  used  to  hold  forth  against  ;  a  sort  of 
nature's  king  ;  a  strong  man,  carving  his  course,  like  a 
river,  and  making  everybody  in  this  wild,  queer  country, 
white  and  black,  respect  and  admire  him.  Yes,  I  knew 
what  he  would  be  like.  And  now  I  see  that  I  was  quite 
right." 

At  her  last  words,  old  Cyrus,  who  had  edged  toward  the 
front  veranda,  realising  that  an  exit  by  the  back  would 
bring  him  face  to  face  with  Tregaskiss,  paused  and  stood 


210  MRS.   TREGASKISS. 

still,  an  expression  of  grim  astonishment  on  bis  features. 
Gladys  was  peering  out  at  the  French  window,  looking 
upon  the  yard  and  was  taking  stock  of  the  newcomer. 
Chance  and  Clare  both  moved  near  her,  and  glanced  over 
her  shoulders  at  the  figure  of  a  tall  man  standing  by  his 
horse  and  unstrapping  his  valise.  Chance  gave  a  queer 
little  ejaculation,  and  Claire's  lips  tightened,  but  she  said 
nothing  and  turned  away.  It  was  Geneste.  In  a  moment 
he  was  at  the  door,  confronting  Gladys.  She  held  out  her 
hand,  her  beautiful  face  beaming,  and  in  her  manner  a  mix- 
ture of  the  sweetest  dignity  and  friendliness. 

"I  don't  need  any  introduction  to  Claire's  husband.  I 
can  quite  understand  her  not  regretting  the  English  life. 
I  hope  you  will  welcome  her  old  friend  for  her  sake." 

"  Gladys,"  Clare  interposed,  "  I  ought  to  have  told  you. 
This  is  not  my  husband;  it  is  our  neighbour,  Dr.  Geneste." 
She  went  forward  with  outstretched  hand.  "  How  do  you 
do  ?  We  were  expecting  Keith.  Let  me  introduce  you 
to  Mrs.  Hilditch." 

Geneste  made  his  greetings  becomingly,  and  Gladys 
laughed  at  her  mistake.  But  there  was  an  awed,  almost 
terrified,  look  in  her  eyes.  Clare's  composure  had  been 
admirable,  but  Gladys'  perceptions  were  keen. 

When  Tregaskiss  arrived  half  an  hour  later,  Mrs.  Hil- 
ditch was  in  her  room  unpacking  the  saddle-bags  and  other- 
wise  preparing  herself  for  dinner.  Clare  was  with  her,  and 
their  first  intimation  of  the  master's  coming  was  not  alto- 
gether an  agreeable  one.  Tregaskiss  was  in  an  ill-humour ; 
he  had  Jiad  a  longer  ride  than  either  Mr.  Shand  or  his  wife 
guessed,  and  not  after  stock.  He  had  seen  on  the  way 
home  his  cattle  dying,  bogged  in  the  fast  emptying  water- 
holes  ;  he  had  a  stormy  encounter  with  the  drover  of  some 
travelling  stock,  and  he  had  discovered  that  a  good  deal  of 
grass  had  been  destroyed  by  a  bush  fire.  Tommy  George, 
who  came  out  to  take  his  horse,  was  suspected  of  being  the 
cause  of  this  last  disaster,  through  having  carelessly  thrown 


FAIR  INES.  211 

away  a  burning  match  when  lighting  his  pipe  on  the  run. 
Tregaskiss  attacked  him,  swore  at  him  freely,  ordered  him 
to  hand  over  his  pipe,  which  he  broke  into  fragments  and 
threw  at  him,  and  gave  Shand  instructions  that  not  another 
fig  of  tobacco  was  to  be  served  to  the  black  boys  for  a 
month  to  come.  He  fumed  on  in  loud,  wrathful  accents. 
His  horse  had  a  sore  back,  and  Shand  came  in  for  a  share 
of  blame  for  not  having  seen  to  the  stuffing  of  the  saddle. 
One  of  the  stockmen  was  waiting  for  rations.  "  Oh,  con- 
found you  !  "  said  Tregaskiss,  "  I'm  dog  tired,  and  I'm  not 
going  to  give  out  rations  at  this  hour.  You  can  stop  till 
Mr.  Shand  has  turned  out  the  horses.  Go  after  him  to  the 
yard  and  tell  him.  Or,  here,  Mrs.  Tregaskiss  will  give  them 
out.  Clare  !  'Gusta,  go  and  ask  your  mistress  to  come 
out  to  the  store." 

Clare  did  not  wait  for  the  summons.  She  turned  from 
her  occupation  of  hanging  up  some  of  Gladys'  dresses  in 
the  cretonne  curtained  wardrobe. 

"I  will  come  back  presently,  Gladys,"  she  said. 

"  Yes.     Stay,  oh,  Clare  !  was  that — Mr.  Tregaskiss  ?" 

"That  was  my  husband,"  said  Mrs.  Tregaskiss  stonily. 
"  You  will  find  him  perhaps  a  little  different  from  what 
you  expected — and  from  what  he  used  to  be — if  Cassandra, 
who  met  him  in  England  ever  described  him  to  you,  but 
you  must  remember  we  lead  a  rough  life,  and  he  has  been 
riding  after  cattle  all  day  ;  and — and  times  are  bad,  and  it 
is  not  surprising  that  he  should  be  tired  and  a  little  irrita- 
ble. Our  cattle  are  dying  for  want  of  grass  and  water,  and 
when  you  have  been  here  a  little  while  you  will  know  what 
ruin  a  bush  fire  may  cause." 

Gladys  said  nothing.  When  Clare  had 'gone  she  sat 
down  on  the  edge  of  the  bed  and  stared  round  her — at  the 
little  veranda  room  with  its  primitive  shutters,  its  walls 
papered  with  pictures  from  the  Illustrated  and  Graphic ; 
its  home-made  furniture  and  sunken  earthen  floor  covered 
with  rugs  and  matting  ;  the  rough  washstand  and  dressing- 


212  MRS.   TREGASKISS. 

table  on  which  Gladys'  silver-backed  brushes  and  array  of 
toilet  implements  looked  so  incongruous  ;  the  canvas  ceil- 
ing and  the  velvety  patch  of  mosquitoes  in  one  corner  wait- 
ing for  darkness  to  leave  their  shelter.  Gladj^s  shuddered. 

"It  wouldn't  matter  a  bit  if  it  weren't  for  him"  she 
murmured.  "  Oh,  my  poor  Clare  ;  my  poor,  dear,  dear 
Clare  !  Oh,  what  made  you  do  it?  And  you  love  the 
other  man  !  Oh,  is  no  one  happy,  no  one  in  the  whole 
world  ?  Must  one  always  love  the  wrong  man  ?  " 

When  Clare  came  back,  which  was  not  for  a  long  time, 
Mrs.  Hilditch  was.  dressed,  her  beautiful  hair  rippling  over 
her  low  forehead,  and  coiled  behind,  with  a  medieval- 
looking  band  of  amethysts,  set  in  antique  silver,  binding 
her  head,  and  a  like  belt  girding  her  loose  muslin  and 
Valenciennes  lace  robe.  There  was  not  much  sign  of 
widowhood  about  her,  and  she  seemed  to  think  it  necessary 
to  apologise  for  the  fact. 

"He  has  been  dead  fourteen  months,  dear,  and  I  couldn't 
ever  wear  a  cap.  Oh,  Clare  !  "  she  added,  coming  close  to 
her  friend  and  laying  a  hand  on  Clare's  arm  while  she 
gazed  at  her  with  earnest  eyes,  "  it  is  so  terrible — so  hid- 
eous to  be  glad  !  But  I  tried  to  do  my  duty  at  the  last — 
when  he  got  ill.  They  said  he  couldn't  have  lived  nearly 
so  long  if  it  hadn't  been  for  me." 

"  I  know  that.  A  man  told  me  you  were  very  good  to 
him." 

Gladj's  withdrew  her  arm  and  went  back  to  the  glass 
and  adjusted  a  loose  lock  of  her  hair  before  she  answered. 
Clare  had  been  wondering  how  she  should  broach  the  news 
of  Blanchard's  presence  on  the  Leura.  She  now  saw  that 
it  was  no  news  to  Gladys,  and  that  chance  had  nothing  to 
do  with  their  proximity  to  each  other. 

"I  know  who  that  was,"  Gladys  answered,  with  studied 
quietness.  "  There's  only  one  man  on  the  Leura  who  could 
know  anything  about  me  and  my  husband.  It  was 
Ambrose  Blanchard." 


FAIR  INES.  213 

"  I  did  not  know  his  name  was  Ambrose,"  said  Clare  ;  "it 
was  Mr.  Blanchard  who  recognised  your  photograph  and 
told  me  he  had  known  you.  He  said  that  he  had  admired 
you  for  your  goodness  to — your  husband." 

"  I  am  glad,"  said  Gladys,  "  that  at  any  rate  he  did  me 
that  justice.  Come,  Clare,  I  like  this  little  room  immensely, 
dear,  it  puts  me  in  mind  of  my  cabin  on  board  the  Nana 
Sahib,  only  that  it  is  a  great  deal  larger  and  more  comfort- 
able. But  I  think  the  veranda  would  be  a  cooler  place  to 
sit  in." 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 

CLAEE'S  vow. 

TREGASKISS,  when  he  found  out  who  his  unseen  auditress 
had  been, — Glady's  informed  him  of  the  fact  with  perfect 
frankness,  accepting  his  ill-temper  as  a  matter  of  course,  and 
asking  him  various  sympathetic  questions  as  to  the  working 
of  the  station,  and  the  probable  results  of  the  fire, — did  his 
best  to  remove  the  impression  his  rough  language  might 
have  made. 

"A  fellow  is  bound  to  swear  at  these  niggers  and  bul- 
lock-drivers, Mrs.  Hilditch,"  he  remarked  confidentially ; 
"and  I'm  delighted  to  see  that  you're  not  horrified  at  our 
bush  ways.  It  took  me  a  long  time  to  break  Clare  in," — 
he  laughed  his  fatuous  laugh, — "but  now  I've  got  her  in 
excellent  order,  though  she  is  still  a  little  inclined  to  give 
herself  airs — doesn't  take  the  cheerful  view  of  things  that 
you  seem  to  do."  Gladys  had  been  giving  a  sprightly 
account  of  her  experiences  among  the  bullock-drivers  at 
Cedar  Hill  and  her  night's  camping  out.  "I  must  say  I 
admire  a  woman  of  spirit.  Rum  old  stick,  Cyrus  Chance, 
isn't  he  ?  You  must  have  played  up  to  him  in  a  remarkable 
way  to  get  him  to  bring  you  along — or  he  may  have  done 
it  out  of  affection  to  my  wife.  He's  very  fond  of  Clare — 
makes  her  presents  occasionally." 

And  Tregaskiss  told  the  story  of  the  six  bottles  of 
porter,  and  Gladys  began  to  understand  Cyrus  Chance's 
objection  to  breaking  bread  in  his  house.  She  began  to 
understand,  too,  Clare's  far-away  smile.  "That's  the  expla- 
nation of  her  Sphinx  look,"  she  said  to  herself.  "Oh,  my 
poor  dear,  dear  Clare  !  Could  he  ever  have  been  handsome 


CLARE'S  VOW.  215 

and  frank  and  attractive,  as  Cassandra  described  him  ? 
Perhaps  in  those  days  he  hadn't  taken  to  drinking  whiskey, 
and  grown  red  and  coarse  ;  and  perhaps  he  was  too  much 
in  awe  of  Clare,  when  she  was  Miss  Gardyne  and  went  to 
London  parties,  to  swear  before  her. 

Gladys  had  already  gauged  the  situation,  and  Tregas- 
kiss'  character  as  well.  She  knew  that  a  woman  who  had 
five  thousand  a  year — as  long  as  she  did  not  marry  again 
— must  command  his  respect.  He  would,  as  far  as  his 
natural  tendency  to  the  superior  domination  of  whiskey 
permitted,  abstain  from  rough  and  ready  language  in  her 
presence.  Then  her  beauty  and  air  of  fashion  awed  him. 
Tregaskiss  admired  her  immensely,  though,  as  he  con- 
fided to  Shand  and  Geneste  later,  she  was  not  altogether 
his  style — put  him  too  much  in  mind  of  ragged  painters 
and  the  floppy,  artistic  set.  Tregaskiss  always  talked  of 
London  life  as  though  he  were  intimately  acquainted  with 
all  its  social  intricacies.  He  had  on  his  manner  of  boister- 
ous good  humour  this  evening,  rapidly  assumed  for  Gladys' 
benefit,  and  chaffed  Geneste  about  Helen  Cusack,  detailing 
the  rumour  he  had  heard  in  Ugandan  of  her  engagement  to 
young  Gillespie,  and  bantered  his  wife  on  her  late  need  of 
his  professional  services. 

"  She  doesn't  look,  does  she,  Mrs.  Hilditch,  as  if  there  had 
been  reason  to  have  a  doctor  standing  over  her  night  and 
day  for  more  than  a  week?  I  told  Clare,  when  I  came 
back  that  I  hadn't  seen  her  looking  so  young  and  handsome 
since  she  first  arrived  on  the  Leura." 

"  I  think  she  is  very  handsome,  certainly,  Mr.  Tregaskiss," 
replied  Gladys,  with  boldness  ;  "  but  if  you  think  she  is 
looking  well,  I  don't  agree  with  you  ;  and  I  should  say  she 
wanted  a  lot  of  nursing  and  taking  care  of." 

Geneste  could  not  help  giving  her  an  approving  glance. 
He  had  been  a  little  afraid  of  the  coming  of  Gladys  Hil- 
ditch ;  now  he  felt  sure  of  her  sympathy. 

She  was  a  many-sided  person,  this  young  woman.     In 


216  MRS.  TREGASKISS. 

European  society  she  was  all  that  there  is  of  the  luxurious 
modern.  Here  on  the  Leura  she  had  a  reaction  in  favour  of 
barbarism,  and  declared  that  there  was  nothing  she  enjoyed 
so  mucli  as  unadulterated  nature,  and  that  she  was  tired  of 
London  banalities.  She  was  intensely  interested  in  bush 
life ;  wanted  to  know  all  about  the  strike — she  had  come 
in  at  Cedar  Hill  for  a  demonstration  against  the  free 
labourers,  as  the  imported  shearers  from  the  south  were 
called  ;  inquired  as  to  the  large  sheep-owners  of  the  dis- 
trict ;  and,  without  once  mentioning  Ambrose  Blanchard's 
name,  contrived  to  get  a  good  deal  of  information  about 
the  Cusacks,  their  household,  and  dependents. 

Her  lively  chatter  covered  the  embarrassment  which  was 
now  inseparable  from  any  intercourse  between  Mrs.  Tre- 
gaskiss  and  Geneste,  when  it  took  place  under  the  eye  of 
others.  What  an  ignorant,  provincial  sort  of  woman  she 
was,  after  all,  Clare  reflected  bitterly ;  how  untrained  in 
the  ways  of  the  world  !  Gladys,  she  thought,  would  have 
found  in  the  situation  only  the  piquancy  of  dramatic  con- 
trast. Every  tone  and  gesture  of  this  attractive  lady 
seemed  to  indicate  a  perfect  capacity  for  dealing  with  a 
shoal  of  contraband  admirers.  Blanchard's  tone  had  sug- 
gested that  her  methods  of  distraction  had  not  been  alto- 
gether as  admirable  as  East  End  visiting. 

Dinner  was  over,  they  were  all  in  the  veranda,  and 
Tregaskiss  was  showing  off  King's  accomplishments,  and 
making  her  go  through  her  last  ghiribal,  which  is  the  black 
for  a  song  and  dance  representing  the  sound  and  action  of 
some  animal.  King's  ghiribal  was  of  the  wild  musk  duck, 
and  her  little  arms  flapped  like  wings,  and  she  puffed  out 
her  cheeks  as  she  moved  and  sang  in  imitation  of  the 
duck's  cry  : 

"  Ya  naiya  naringa 
Puanbu  ni  go  ! 
Mingo  ahikarai ! 

Whoogh  ! " 


CLARE'S  VOW.  217 

"  Did  you  ever  see  such  a  pickaninny,  Mrs.  Ililctttcli  ?  " 
he  cried,  in  boisterous  delight. 

Gladys  was  enchanted.  Here  was  true  local  colour,  and 
nature  unadulterated.  At  last  she  had  escaped  from  the 
asphyxiating  influence  of  civilisation.  She,  too,  must  learn 
a  ghiribal.  Tregaskiss  made  the  child  repeat  her  perform- 
ance. He  was  at  his  best  when  playing  with  Ning,  and 
Gladys  began  to  dislike  her  host  a  little  less  cordially. 

By  and  by  Cyrus  Chance's  camp-fire  glimmered  in  the 
distance  beyond  the  cluster  of  blacks'  gunyas,  and  Gladys 
declared  her  intention  of  taking  a  moonlight  stroll  and 
paying  him  a  visit.  She  did  not  ask  Tregaskiss  if  he  would 
escort  her,  an  omission  which  made  him  sulky,  and  he 
retaliated  on  his  wife  by  desiring  her  to  remain  and  help 
him  with  his  office  work :  that  dreary  business  of  writing 
down  beneath  the  date  all  that  had  been  done  on  the 
station  that  day  :  the  number  of  cattle  branded, — if  there 
were  branding  going  on, — the  camps  mustered,  the  rations 
given  out.  To-night  Tregaskiss  had  more  serious  matters 
occupying  him.  The  bank  had  written  him  a  letter  of 
warning,  and  had  issued  a  veiled  threat  of  sending  a  repre- 
sentative to  report  on  the  station.  There  were  other  pay- 
ments to  be  made — the  store  account  at  Ilgandah,  the 
fencers,  and  other  items  into  which  Tregaskiss  did  not 
enter  in  detail.  .It  was  a  question  of  selling  store  cattle 
in  order  to  raise  money  for  immediate  expenses,  and  the 
drought  was  threatening  severely,  and  the  market  was  bad. 
Then  he  propounded  a  scheme  which  had  occurred  to  him 
during  dinner.  Could  Clare  "  work  her  friend,  Mrs.  Hil- 
ditch,"  as  he  phrased  it ;  get  her  to  make  a  loan,  or  buy  a 
small  share  in  Mount  Wombo,  and  so  f  urnish  a  supply  of  cash. 

Clare  recoiled.  Impossible!  She  felt  that  she  would 
almost  rather  starve.  It  would  be  easier  to  apply  to 
Cyrus  Chance,  hopeless  as  would  be  the  result.  Tregaskiss 
upbraided  her  for  lukewarmness  as  regarded  his  interests. 
She  cared  for  nothing  as  long  as  she  had  her  ease,  and 


218  MRS.   TREGASKI8S. 

could  stay  at  home  cooling  herself  in  the  veranda  with  the 
children  ;  but  she  would  feel  differently  when  she  no  longer 
had  a  roof  over  her  head,  and  so  on. 

Clare  gazed  out  into  the"  night.  The  gaunt  gum  trees 
and  the  ghostly  gidias  seemed  to  mock  the  very  suggestion 
of  freedom.  To  be  roofless  and  alone  !  The  very  idea 
was  like  letting  in  a  rush  of  fresh  wind.  The  passion  of 
futile  longing  that  seized  her  seemed  unbearable.  She  got 
up  and  paced  the  room.  Though  the  window  was  open,  they 
did  not  seem  to  have  a  breath  of  air ;  the  hum  of  the  mos- 
quitoes was  maddening,  and  the  flying  ants  circling  toward 
the  lamp,  dropping  their  wings  on  the  table-cover,  in- 
creased the  feeling  of  discomfort.  Tregaskiss  leaned  back 
in  the  office  chair  smoking,  and  occasionally  expectorating 
through  the  open  window.  He,  too,  got  up,  mixing  him- 
self a  glass  of  spirits  ;  he  always  kept  it  in  the  safe,  where 
were  the  station  ledgers  and  the  strychnine  for  poisoning 
native  dogs.  Clare  thought  of  Geneste  and  Gladys  wan- 
dering by  the  lagoon — wondered  if  he  were  telling  Gladys 
of  her  wretchedness.  No,  he  was  too  loyal  for  that,  he 
would  know  that  she  could  not  bear  to  be  pitied,  even  by 
Gladys,  just  yet  a  while.  She  had  exchanged  no  word 
with  Geneste,  except  that  commonplace  good-night,  since 
those  in  which  he  had  told  her  of  his  love,  and  she  had 
bade  him  never  speak  of  it  again.  Did  he  mean  to  take 
her  altogether  literally  ?  He  might  have  written  to  her. 
There  had  been  an  opportunity  at  the  last  coming  of 
Jemmy  Rodd.  Perhaps  he  had  been  afraid  that  her  hus- 
band would  open  the  letter.  Had  he  in  truth  meant  those 
words — had  he  not,  perhaps,  repented  them?  Her  heart 
was  crying  out  and  hungering  to  hear  them  repeat,  "I 
love  you  !  "  And  he  had  never  asked  her  if  she  loved  him 
back.  Oh,  if  she  could  go  to  him,  and  put  her  head  upon 
his  breast,  and  feel  his  arms  round  her,  and  say  to  him  in 
his  ear  just  once,  as  she  had  said  to  herself,  "  I  love  you 
with  all  my  soul."  Tregaskiss'  rasping  voice  roused  her  : 


CLARE'S  VOW.  219 

"  That  mine  has  turned  out  no  good,  and  the  others 

are  just  as  likely  as  not  to  be  rank  sells.  By  G d  !  I'm 

sick  of  the  whole  concern.  I  feel  that  I  want  a  jolly 
good  spree,  with  a  pleasant  companion,  and  to  throw 
worries  to  the  devil  for  a  bit,  anyhow.  What's  the  use  of 
slaving  and  sweating  to  have  the  bank  down  upon  you,  and 

life  to  begin  all  over  again.  If  it  wasn't  for  the  children 

I  declare  to  Heaven  that  but  for  the  Pickaninny,  and 
if  I  could  manage  to  make  a  lucky  hit  over  one  of  these 
Wirra  reefs,  I'd  cut  the  whole  blessed  business  and  never 
come  back  again  !  Don't  stand  like  a  stock  there,  Clare," 
he  cried  out ;  "  go  out,  if  you  want  to,  and  find  your  fine 
friend  !  You're  jealous,  I  suppose,  lest  she  should  be  flirt- 
ing with  Geneste.  Go  on  out  !  You're  no  good  to  me  !  If 
I'd  had  a  different  sort  of  wife  I  shouldn't  feel  as  I  feel 
to-night." 

She  was  moving  away,  but  at  the  last  words  came  back 
to  him. 

"  How  do  you  feel,  Keith  ?  Tell  me  what  is  really  the 
matter  with  you,  and  I'll  do  my  best  to  help  you.  I  don't 
believe  it's  all  money  difficulties.  You  seem  to  me  to 
have  utterly  changed  since  you  were  away  that  week  at 
Ilgandah." 

"That's  true  enough,"  he  said  moodily.  "I  found  out 
something  then  that  I  hadn't  known  before,  and  it  has 
upset  me,  that's  all.  But  it  has  nothing  to  do  with  you." 

"  Then  I  won't  ask  any  more,"  she  answered  proudly, 
"  and  I'll  go  out  and  find  Gladys." 

When  she  had  gone  Tregaskiss  replenished  his  now  emp- 
tied glass,  and  drawing  his  blotting  pad  to  him,  began  to 
write  in  his  big  boyish  hand  : 

"  MY  OWN  DARLING  : 

"  I  longed  so  for  the  sight  of  your  dear  little  bright  face, 
that  I  rode  all  the  way  over  to  the  surveyor's  to-day, — forty 
miles  there  and  back, —  and  I  couldn't  have  done  it  if  I  hadn't 
15 


220  MRS.   TREGASKISS. 

changed  nags  at  the  fencers.  You  can  just  imagine  my 
disappointment  when  I  heard  there  that  you  had  gone 
away  from  the  Ococks,  and  that  it  was  no  use  my  going 
on.  And  now  I  don't  know  how  I  can  see  you,  for  that 
old  dragon,  Mrs.  Cusack,  doesn't  approve  of  my  paying 
you  too  much  attention.  I'm  feeling  uncommonly  bad 
about  it  all,  Hetty.  Somehow,  your  caring  for  me,  which  I 
never  guessed  till  just  lately,  seems  to  have  altered  every- 
thing and  to  have  turned  me  from  a  steady-going,  con- 
tented chap,  into  a  reckless,  miserable  devil,  not  minding 
much  what  happens  to  him.  It  drives  me  mad  to  think  of 
how  jolly  we  might  have  been  if  everything  was  right,  and 
then  the  thought  of  the  Pickaninny,  and  all  the  rest  of  the 
wretched  business,  sends  me  mad  again  the  other  way. 
Though  I  hate  the  idea  of  losing  you,  I  believe  the  right, 
unselfish  course  for  me  would  be  either  to  go  straight  away 
for  a  trip  to  England  or  somewhere — only  I  am  too  hard 
up  just  now  to  think  of  that.  And  failing  ray  clearing  out, 
it  would  be  best  for  you  to  leave  the  Cusacks  and  find  a 
home  in  another  place,  and  if  you  forget  me,  so  much  the 
better  for  you.  That's  what  I  wanted  to  talk  to  you  about, 
and  I'll  try  and  work  a  trip  to  Brinda  Downs,  if  it's  possi- 
ble. Has  Cusack  finished  his  shearing,  and  where  is  he 
going  to  muster  ?  You  might  suggest  to  the  old  lady  to 
invite  my  wife's  friend,  a  real " 

Tregaskiss  had  got  thus  far  when  Shand  came  in  to 
report  that  part  of  the  paddock  fence  was  broken  down, 
and  that  the  mob  of  horses  kept  in  readiness  for  the 
specials  had  taken  to  the  bush.  With  an  oath,  Tregaskiss 
got  up,  putting  the  half  written  letter  between  the  leaves 
of  the  station  ledger  in  the  cupboard,  which  he  always 
kept  locked,  the  key  of  which  he  now  turned  and  put  in  his 
pocket.  Then  he  followed  the  new  chum  out  to  see  about 
sending  black  boys  after  the  missing  animals. 

Meanwhile  Clare  wandered  forth  past  the  garden  fence 


CLARE'S  VOW.  221 

toward  the  lagoon.  In  the  distance  she  could  hear  King's 
shrill  prattle,  and  remembered  that  Gladys  had  taken  the 
child  when  she  and  Geneste  started  to  find  Cyrus  Chance's 
camp.  When  she  had  gone  a  little  way  in  the  same  direc- 
tion, Mrs.  Tregaskiss  turned  and  made  for  the  opposite  end 
of  the  lagoon,  where  the  gidia  scrub  grew  almost  to  the 
water,  and  where  there  were  no  fires  or  sign  of  habitation. 
To  meet  Geneste  now  in  the  company  of  Mrs.  Hilditch  and 
of  her  child  was  more  than  she  could  bear.  Then  she 
heard  her  husband's  "  Coo-ee,"  and  shout  for  Tommy  George 
and  the  black  boys  to  "  murra  make  haste  and  go  after 
yarraman  that  had  bolted."  She  knew  that  he  would  be  at 
the  camp  presently,  and  would,  no  doubt,  join  the  others. 
In  the  moonlight  she  could  see  Gladys'  white  dress  and 
tall  figure  as  she  stood  in  front  of  one  of  the  gunyas  watch- 
ing a  group  of  blacks  playing  cards  on  their  blankets. 
To.  Gladys  the  blacks'  camp  had  the  charm  of  novelty,  and 
Tregaskiss  would  be  amused  at  her  questions  and  would 
make  the  boys  "  show  off,"  and  forget  his  worries,  whatever 
they  might  be.  Clare  did  not  love  her  husband.  At  times 
— Heaven  forgive  her  ! — she  almost  hated  him,  but  she  had 
always  derived  a  certain  satisfaction  from  the  knowledge 
that  whatever  he  might  be  to  her  she  at  least  was  necessary 
to  him.  This  assurance  had  comforted  and  sustained  her  in 
"  doing  her  duty,"  as  unfortunate  wives  are  apt  to  phrase  to 
themselves  the  disagreeables  of  their  lot.  But  since  hi8 
return  after  her  illness,  she  had  been  strangely  conscious 
of  aloofness  on  his  part,  jealous  irritability  alternating  with 
sullen  avoidance  of  her  society,  and  this  had  affected  her 
in  a  way  which  once  she  could  hardly  have  believed  possi- 
ble. She  attributed  it  to  the  change  in  her  self,  reacting 
upon  him,  sedulously  as  she  strove  to  shut  in  the  secret  of 
her  heart.  To-night  she  had  become  aware,  and  with  a 
sense  of  shock,  that  the  change  was  in  him,  and  that  some- 
how there  was  a  battle  going  on  in  his  undeveloped  nature  ; 
of  elementary  instincts  warring  with  each  other,  love  for 


222  MRS.   TREGASKISS. 

the  Pickaninny,  a  certain  fealty  to  her,  and  a  strong  im- 
pulse in  another  direction.  Was  it  that  he  was  simply 
bored  with  the  life,  longing  to  escape  from  his  obligations, 
monetary,  marital,  and  paternal, — the  latter  holding  him 
back, — or  could  it  be  that  he  had  conceived  a  sudden  pas- 
sion for  another  woman  ? — Miss  Lawford  was  the  only  one 
who  occurred  to  her  mind. 

At  the  thought  a  spasm  of  disgust  shook  her,  not  only 
at  her  husband  and  Miss  Lawford,  but  at  herself.  Gloss 
and  glorify  it  as  she  would,  the  bald  fact  remained  that  her 
feeling  for  Geneste  was  as  much  outside  the  law  as  his  for 
Miss  Lawford.  They  four  were  practically  on  the  same 
level  ! 

No,  no  !  The  finer  part  of  her  cried  out  in  denial. 
Geueste  was  true  and  noble  ;  and  she,  God  help  her !  she 
would  still  "  do  her  duty." 

She  came  to  a  lonely  little  spot  at  the  very  edge  of  the 
lagoon — a  tiny  inlet  closed  round  with  black  gidia  trees 
growing  rather  apart,  and  so  showing  their  strange 
funereal  boles  and  melancholy  gray  foliage,  with  white, 
perfectly  grassless  ground  beneath  them.  At  the  waters 
edge  was  a  fringe  of  fast  withering  rushes,  and  sometimes 
there  would  be  a  rustle  in  it,  a  sort  of  long  "  tr — sse,"  like 
that  of  a  silk  gown,  and  the  dead  dry  reeds  would  bend 
and  break  as  a  startled  waterfowl  rose  with  a  discordant 
cry  of  alarm.  She  could  hear,  too,  the  shrill  chirrup  of  the 
small  tree  frog,  and  the  fat  "  poomp  "  of  the  bullfrog  as  it 
flopped  into  the  water.  The  place  was  creepy  ;  one  or 
two  white-barked  saplings  of  the  flooded  gum  looked  like 
skeletons  in  the  moonlight,  and  the  water  itself  was  black, 
with  here  and  there  a  faint  greenish-brown  scum,  or  a  few 
scattered  leaves  of  the  water-lily. 

Clare  seated  herself  upon  a  twisted  root  of  one  of  the 
gidia  trees  protruding  above  the  soil.  Habit  made  her  look 
first  to  see  that  there  wras  no  snake  lurking  near,  then  she 
bent  forward,  doubling  herself,  with  her  arms  clasping  her 


CLARE'S  VOW.  223 

knees  and  her  head  upon  them,  and  her  whole  frame  shak- 
ing with  convulsive  sobs. 

She  sobbed  in  sheer  loneliness  and  desperation  and  long- 
ing— longing  for  the  sweetness  she  must  not  taste  ;  for  the 
joy  so  near,  which  she  might  not  stretch  out  her  hand  to 
seize. 

The  passion  spent  itself.  Through  her  sobs  she  had 
been  faintly  conscious  of  low  "  Coo-ees."  They  might  be 
calling  for  her.  What  did  it  matter  ?  She  knew  that 
no  one  would  come  to  seek  her  in  this  hiding-place,  the 
security  of  which  she  had  many  times  tested.  She  did  not 
hear  some  footsteps  which  approached  slowly,  scarcely 
sounding  in  the  devious  course  they  pursued.  But  pres- 
ently a  voice  said  very  low,  and  with  an  immense  sorrow 
and  yearning  : 

"  Clare  !     Oh,  my  poor  Clare  !  " 

She  raised  her  "head  and  lifted  her  eyes,  all  wet  and 
shining.  Geneste  was  standing  quite  close  to  her,  leaning 
against  the  trunk  of  a  gidia  tree,  and  looking  down  on  her 
with  eyes  almost  as  bright  as  her  own,  from  kept  back 
tears. 

"  Oh,  my  poor  Clare  !  "  he  repeated. 

She  tried  to  get  up,  but  her  limbs  were  stiff  and  cramped. 
He  bent  down  and  put  his  arm  round  her,  lifting  her  bodily. 
When  she  was  beside  him  he  still  kept  his  arm  lightly 
round  hei',  but  he  refrained  from  other  cai'ess  or  further 
words  of  tenderness.  She,  woman-like,  almost  resented  the 
restraint  he  put  upon  himself,  which,  had  she  known  it, 
cost  him  a  hard  tussle.  Why  was  he  so  cold? 

"  Where  are  the  others  ?  "  she  asked. 

"They've  gone  back  to  the  house.  Mrs.  Hilditch  was 
disappointed  in  her  visit  to  Chance.  She  sent  me  on  to 
announce  her,  but  when  I  got  to  the  tent  I  could  see  only 
what  looked  like  a  bundle  of  dirty  clothes  lying  on  a 
blanket  inside  and  presently  the  old  man  grunted  out  :  'Be 
off  with  you  !  If  you  want  anything  from  me,  you  won't 


224  MRS.  TREGASKISS.  ' 

get  it  I '  So  I  departed.  "VYe  stopped  with  the  blacks  for 
a  bit,  and  Ning  did  the  interpreting,  and  Mrs.  Hilditch 
has  made  herself  pretty  well  acquainted  with  the  family 
history  of  the  tribe,  and  has  arranged  to  photograph  the 
lot  to-morrow.  Tregaskiss  came  down  and  joined  us  at 
the  blacks'  camp ;  then  we  coo-eed  for  you,  and  at  last  I 
said  I  would  come  and  look  for  you."  He  had  talked  on, 
giving  her  time  to  recover  herself. 

"  How  did  you  know  where  I  should  be?  Nobody  ever 
conies  here." 

"  Intuition  told  me.  Spirit  calling  to  spirit,  rather.  Do 
you  remember  once  telling  me  that  you  came  down  some- 
times in  the  evening,  and  sat  by  the  lagoon  among  the 
gidia  trees.  I  knew  you  would  choose  the  most  lonely 
spot,  and  I  walked  round  the  bank  till  I  found  you.  Clare, 
it  cannot  be  I  who  have  made  you  so  unhappy." 

"  No — yes  ;  it  all  comes  from  the- same  thing."        s 

"  If  I  make  you  unhappy,"  he  said,  in  a  pained  tone,  "I 
had  better  go  away  and  leave  you  to  yourself.  I  had 
better  come  over  here  no  more.  But — I  thought  it  might 
comfort  you  a  little  to  know  that  there  was  a  man  near 
you  upon  whose  devotion  you  might  rely,  and  toward 
whom  you  would  feel  under  no  obligation — not  even  to 
return  his  feeling  to  the  slightest  degree." 

As  he  spoke  he  withdrew  his  arm,  in  a  slight  movement 
of  pique,  which  wounded  her  and  made  her  desperate. 

"You  don't  understand!  I  never  had  such  a — such  a 
relation  in  my  life  before.  I  never  thought  it  would 
come.  I  have  always  been  a  straight  woman.  I  cannot 
act  falsehoods.  I  cannot  look  you  in  the  face,  and  look 
my  husband  in  the  face — and  know — I  haven't  cared 
for  Keith, — or  for  the  children  altogether,  because, — 
oh,  poor  little  innocent  things  that  I  had  no  right  to 
bring  into  the  world  ! — because  they  were  his.  But  I 
had  made  up  my  mind  that  I  would  do  the  best  I  could 
and  that  there  should  never  be  any  reproach  against  me 


CLARE'S  VOW.  225 

— that  I  would  keep  myself  apart  from  what  was  evil. 
And  now,"  she  went  on  hurriedly,  looking  away  from  him, 
"  now,  I  am  no  better  than  anyone  else.  I  have  despised — 
others — and  what  am  I?  And  perhaps  it  is  this  thing 
which  has  acted  upon  him — one  does  not  know  how  evil 
in  one's  self  and  in  other  people  acts  back  again  ;  it  is  in  the 
air.  He,  too  !  I  thought  he  was  straight  and  simple  and 
that  he  was  true  to  me,  and  that  I  could  help  him  and  per- 
haps do  him  good.  And  now,  he  too "  She  paused, 

choked  with  a  sob. 

"You  mean,"  said  Geneste,  surprised  at  what  he  sup- 
posed the  cause  of  her  agitation,  "  that  your  husband  has 
been  making  rather  a  fool  of  himself  about  Miss  Lawford. 

But  he  isn't  capable You  can't  compare  the  two  things. 

And  why  should  it  affect  you  so  much  ?  You  must  see  that 
it  is  utterly  beneath  you,  and  not  to  be  spoken  in  the  same 
breath  with  my  feeling  for  you." 

"  I  cannot  help  it,"  she  said  helplessly.  "  I  feel  so 
lonely,  and  I  am  frightened." 

The  confession  of  weakness  in  her  touched  him  infinitely, 
it  put  her  on  a  new  footing  in  regard  to  himself  ;  it  was 
as  though  she  had  appealed  to  him,  with  her  armour 
doffed  and  her  weapons  thrown  down,  to  maintain  his 
chivalrous  attitude  toward  her,  to  come  no  nearer,  to 
respect  her  prohibition  on  words  of  love.  He  folded  his 
arms  stiffly  and  drew  back  into  his  former  position  against 
the  tree. 

"My  poor  child,"  he  said,  "do  not  be  frightened  of  me  ! 
Have  I  not  shown  that  I  can  obey  you?  " 

"  It  is  not  that,"  she  answered,  very  low.  "  It  is  that 

I "  She  paused.  "  Can't  you  understand  ?  It  is  that 

I  am  frightened  of  myself." 

"  Clare  !  "  He  had  turned  swiftly  to  her,  his  arms  half 
unlocked.  "I  have  never  asked  you  if  you  care  for  me," 
he  said.  "I  will  not  ask  you  now.  I  will  not  again  say 
to  you  the  words  you  have  bade  me  not  speak." 


226  MRS.   TREGASKISS. 

She  kept  her  head  away  from  him,  though  he  could  see 
that  she  was  trembling,  and  he  knew  by  instinct  that  a 
struggle  was  going  on  within  her. 

There  was  silence  for  a  full  minute,  and  the  struggle 
ended,  as  such  struggles  always  do  end.  She  made  a  little 
piteous  movement  toward  him  and  looked  up  into  his  face. 
And  then  he  saw,  what  he  had  only  before  suspected,  the 
height  and  depth  of  passion  which  this  strange,  self-con- 
tained, impassive  creature  was  capable  of  reaching.  Her 
whole  face  was  changed  ;  the  still  lips  were  quivering,  the 
eyes  had  an  indescribable  expression  of  tenderness,  her 
very  form  seemed  pliable  as  a  lily  stem.  She  held  out 
both  her  hands,  and  he  clasped  them  in  his.  "  Don't  you 
see,"  she  whispered  ;  "  it  is  that  I  love  you  ?  " 

He  gathered  her  up  against  him. 

"  Clare,  ask  me  to  say  it,  darling  !  Ask  me  yourself  to 
tell  you  !  " 

"Tell  me " 

"I  love  you  !  I  love  you  better  than  my  life  ;  better 
than  anything  the  world  holds  or  ever  has  held  for  me  !  " 

"  Better  than — that  other  woman  ?" 

"  Yes.  That's  past,  gone,  dead.  This  is  a  different 
thing  altogether.  That  was  a  madness  which  nearly  ruined 
my  life — did  ruin  it  in  one  sense.  That  was  my  perdition  ; 
this  will  be  my  redemption." 

He  kissed  her. 

"  Are  you  lonely  now,  Clare  ?  " 

"  No.     I  so  wanted " 

"Are  you  frightened  of  me  now  ?  " 

"  I  cannot  tell,  dearest.  It  is  only  for  this  once — just 

so  that  we  may  know It  is  not  you  that  have  failed  ; 

it  is  I,  and  I  don't  care.  I  icill  say  it.  I  love  you,  my 
dearest.  I'd  like  to  stand  out  in  the  face  of  all  the  world 
and  acknowledge  it.  I'm  not  ashamed  of  loving  you,  you, 

you,  but  I  am  ashamed  of Oh,  it  can't  go  on  !  If 

we  were  to  meet  like  this,  and  you  kissed  me, — it  was  so 


CLARE'S  VOW.  227 

sweet,  so  sweet ! — I  should  long  for  you  more  and  more. 
I  should  live  only  on  the  hope  of  seeing  you.  It's  almost 
like  that  now.  I  should  get  to  feel  the  life  I  must  lead 
more  and  more  impossible.  No,  no,  you  mustn't  speak. 
I  know  what  you  are  going  to  say.  You  must  never  say 
it.  "VVe  mustn't  let  ourselves  go  on.  The  children — every- 
thing !  It  would  be  too  ghastly.  Once  I  lost  self-control 
I  shouldn't  be  able  to  bear  it.  I  have  always  felt  that. 
There  comes  a  sort  of  exaltation  in  the  trying  to  hold 
one's  self  in.  One  can  smile  and  smile,  and  all  the  time 
one's  heart  is  breaking  and  no  one  knows.  I  could  do  that 
till  you  came,  and  then  you  forced  me  to  be  myself,  and 
that  was  what  first  made  me  know."  Her  words  rushed 
out  like  a  torrent  escaping  through  loosened  floodgates. 
He  obeyed  her  literally,  speaking  never  a  word.  "  I 
couldn't  go  home  and  put  the  children  to  bed,  and  hear 
Ning  say  her  prayers — after  this.  Not  to-night.  To-night 
it  doesn't  matter  ;  nothing  matters.  But  it's  because  I 
brought  those  little  things  into  this  dreadful  world,  and 
there's  no  one  else  ;  and  I  don't  love  them — not  even  as 
their  father  loves  them.  It's  for  that  I  must  keep  good. 
I  mustn't  have — this.  Once,  dearest,  dearest,  once  of  my 
very  own  self — what  for  no  man  in  this  world  I  have  ever 
done  or  ever  shall  do.  I  never  kissed  anyone  like  that. 
Dearest,  dearest  of  all, — the  only  one, — it  is  for  you  ! 

"  Now  we  must  go  in.  Never  again  !  never,  never ! 
No  words  of  love,  nothing  spoken  ;  but  we  shall  always 
know — alwa}rs  trust  each  other.  I  want  to  keep  myself 
good.  See,  I  shall  make  a  vow — by  my  most  sacred  duty, 
my  duty  to  the  children.  If  I  break  it,  God  will  punish 
me  through  them,  through  Ning — poor  little  Ning  !  I 
have  made  the  vow.  See  !  " 

She  drew  from  her  dress  the  little  old-fashioned  cross 
she  always  wore  and  kissed  it  solemnly.  Then  silently  she 
led  the  way  back,  and  he  followed  her. 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

THE  "SPECIALS"  ON  DUTY. 

GLADYS  HILDITCH  fitted  curiously  into  the  life  at  Mount 
Wornbo.  She  did  not  seem  to  feel  the  heat,  which  was 
now  becoming  intense,  and  she  did  not  greatly  mind  the 
mosquitoes.  At  any  rate,  they  did  not  seem  to  sting  her, 
or,  if  they  did,  no  marks  were  left  on  her  velvetty  skin, 
— that  thick,  smooth  kind  of  skin  which  does  not  sunburn 
easily  and  offers  the  least  attraction  to  bloodthirsty  insects. 
Snakes,  scorpions,  and  centipedes  she  did,  as  she  declared, 
draw  the  line  at,  but  happily  these  were  less  common. 
Nor  did  she  appear  inconvenienced  by  the  absence  of  those 
luxuries  to  which  she  had  been  accustomed.  To  be  deliv- 
ered from  the  whims  and  tyrannies  of  Parker,  her  maid, 
was,  she  assured  them,  emancipation.  Luxuriant  wavy 
hair,  which  grows  low  on  a  Clytie-like  forehead  and  adorns 
a  perfectly  shaped  head,  can  be  becomingly  dressed  in  a 
Greek  knot  at  small  trouble  to  its  owner.  There  did  arise 
a  difficulty  as  to  the  starching  and  ironing  of  Gladys' 
wonderful  robes  of  muslin  and  lace,  but  she  solved  it  by 
getting  out  some  pieces  of  China  silk,  which  she  had 
bought  in  Singapore,  and  which  she  concocted  into  gar- 
ments rather  after  the  chiton  model,  and  which  had  the 
merit  of  not  requiring  frequent  washing.  There  was 
something  so  complete  about  Gladys  that  it  was  hard  to 
fancy  her  subject  to  the  little  sordid  woes  of  ordinary 
humanity.  She  was  never  ruffled,  or  hot,  or  tumbled- 
looking.  She  seemed,  somehow,  a  creature  out  of  a  poetry 
book,  made  to  bask  luxuriously  in  balmy  air,  to  smile  and 
chatter  in  her  soft,  languid  voice,  and  to  please  and  be 

228 


THE   "SPECIALS"  ON  DUTY.  229 

pleased  by  everybody.  Cyrus  Chance's  simile  of  Fair  Ines 
was  not  inappropriate. 

They  saw  nothing  of  the  old  man  for  some  little  time. 
He  took  to  going  Port  Victoria-ward  by  another  route  ; 
and  when,  upon  one  occasion,  Clare  met  him  riding  on  the 
other  side  of  the  bore,  and  asked  him  why  he  did  not  con- 
tinue his  reformation  of  Mrs.  Hilditch,  lie  replied  that  he 
did  not  want  to  find  her  out  a  vain,  wheedling  woman, 
like  all  the  rest,  which  he  might  do  if  there  were  other 
men  in  the  way,  and  that,  moreover,  he  didn't  intend  to 
give  Tregaskiss  another  opportunity  of  making  him  eat 
dirt.  "  But  tell  her  she  has  done  the  old  miser  good,"  he 
added  to  Clare,  "and  that  maybe  she'll  find  some  time 
the  only  three  days  old  Cyrus  ever  spent  in  a  woman's 
company  since  he  grew  to  manhood  will  be  written  down 
in  his  log.  She  and  you,  Mrs.  Tregaskiss,  have  just  given 
me  a  revelation  of  what  the  poetry  women  might  be 
like." 

Gladys  laughed  when  Clare  told  her  that  she  was  the 
embodiment  of  old  Cyrus  Chance's  dreams  of  "poetry 
women,"  and  then  she  became  grave. 

"  What's  the  use  of  being  an  ideal  to  ninety-nine  men," 
she  asked  bitterly,  "  if  the  hundredth  looks  upon  you  as 
an  incarnate  fiend?" 

"  Who  is  the  hundredth  man,  Gladys  ? "  asked  her 
friend. 

"  Never  mind,"  Gladys  answered.  "  Perhaps  I  shall  tell 
you  some  day.  You  don't  doubt,  I  suppose,  that  there 
have  been  the  ninety-and-nine  ?  " 

"  No  ;  of  that  there  could  certainly  be  no  doubt." 

Gladys  had  a  good  many  amusing  stories  of  the  suitors 
of  various  nationalities  who,  since  her  widowhood,  had 
sighed  at  her  feet,  and  of  the  struggle  between  love  and 
lucre  in  the  minds  of  some  of  them  when  they  had  discov- 
ered that  upon  her  remarriage  the  five  thousand  a  year 
would  melt  into  nothingness.  She  had  her  cynical,  sophis- 


230  MRS.   TREGASKIS8. 

ticated  way  also  of  touching  upon  the  modern  social  codes 
as  regards  the  flirtations  of  married  women. 

"  It's  a  disappointment,  dear.  The  heroics  and  the  pla- 
tonics  are  so  magnificent  at  the  beginning,  but  they  never 
last.  The  day  always  comes  when  it's  a  question  with  the 
man  of  all  or  nothing,  and  then  worse  luck  for  the  poor 
woman  if  it's  all,  and  worse  still  if  she  has  the  strength  to 
make  it  nothing.  Clare," — and  Gladys  became  suddenly 
earnest, — "don't  believe  in  heroics." 

"  You  used  to  preach  them  once,  Gladys." 

"  Once  !     Ah,  that  was  before  I  married  Mr.  Hilditch." 

"  Gladys,  was  he  so  very  bad  to  you  ?  " 

"  Bad  !  He  was  goodness  itself — as  far  as  loading  me 
with  diamonds,  giving  me  everything  I  could  want,  and 
glorying  in  me  as  the  most  satisfying  investment  he  had 
ever  made,  counts  as  goodness.  He  wasn't  a  bad  sort," — 
Clare  remembered  that  Blanchard  had  used  the  words, — "  he 
was  good-natured  till  his  illness  increased,  and  made  him 
gradually  more  and  more  irritable  and  unreasonable — but 
he  was  low,  low,  mean  and  vulgar.  He  didn't  know  what 
an  ideal  meant,  everything  he  touched  seemed  to  wither 
into  something  contemptible,  something  sordid  as  he  was 
himself.  To  live  with  him  was  like  being  shut  up  without 
a  single  breath  of  pure  fresh  air,  in  a  stove-heated  atmos- 
phere. The  American  railway  carriages,  with  their  closed 
ventilators  and  horrible  money-making  crowd  of  pas- 
sengers, used  to  remind  me  of  him.  That  was  his  view  of 
life,  and  sharing  it  was  the  being  slowly  poisoned.  Do 
you  know,  I  used  sometimes  to  look  back  upon  the  dirty 
old  studio  days — and  mamma  and  her  cheap  art,  and  Cas- 
sandra's nonsense,  and  the  dreadful  second-rate  actors  and 
authors  talking  shop  at  our  'at  homes,'  which  we  always 
thought,  in  their  way,  just  as  bad  as  anything  could  be — 
with  a  positive  longing.  Oh,  it  was  salvation  to  come 
across  something  disinterested,  something  noble,  someone 
who  did  not  live  only  for  self,  for  making  and  spending 


THE   "SPECIALS"  ON  DUTY.  231 

money,  for  eating  and  drinking,  and  racing  and  flirting — 
and  worse  ;  someone  who  did  not  always  impute  mean 
motives,  who  could  sacrifice  worldly  advantages  for  the 
sake  of  an  idea — for  the  sake  of  honesty  and  self-respect." 
Gladys  stopped.  Pier  voice  had  deepened  with  gathering 
emotion.  "  Clare,"  she  went  on,  almost  in  a  whisper  now, 
coming  closer  and  kneeling  down  by  the  chair  on  which 
Mrs.  Tregaskiss  sat,  with  her  sewing  in  her  lap,  "  if  you 
had  been  living  my  life,  and  felt  yourself  getting  worse 
and  worse,  more  vain  and  insincere,  and  dependent  upon 
excitement,  no  matter  of  what  kind,  to  distract  from  the 
inward  gnawing,  and  if  you  had  met  such  a  one — a  man 
unlike  all  other  men  you  had  ever  known,  wouldn't  you 
have  stretched  out  your  hands  to  him  as  if  he  had  been 
your  saviour,  and  implored  him  to  take  pity  upon  you,  and 
teach  you  what  good  meant " 

"Yes  ;  tell  me,  Gladys." 

"  Tell  you  !  "  Gladys  suddenly  rose,  and  her  emotion 
ended  in  a  bitter  little  laugh.  "  Clare,  you  know — you 
know  !  Don't  be  deluded  by  it  ;  don't  stretch  out  your 
hand  ;  don't  think  any  good  will  come  of  it.  It  will  be 
the  old,  old  story.  If  he's  human,  he'll  fall  in  love  with 
you,  and  hate  himself  and  despise  you  ;  and  if  he  is  super- 
humanly  good  and  strong,  he'll  despise  you  just  the  same 
— and  desert  you  ;  and  all  your  life  afterward  will  be 
just  one  long  ache  to  win  his  good  opinion  again,  so 
that  you  will  go  to  the  other  end  of  the  world  for  the 
chance  of  seeing  him  once  more,  and  feeling  yourself — 
forgiven." 

Gladys  walked  to  the  open  French  window,  and  stood 
there  looking  out,  saying  nothing.  Clare  followed.  Then 
as  if  to  prevent  her  from  making  any  comment  on  the 
outburst,  Gladys  cried  : 

"  I'm  going  down  to  bathe  in  the  creek,  and  I  want 
Ning  to  come  along,  and  we'll  take  the  camera  and  after- 
ward photograph  the  pickaninnies  in  a  group.  Clare, 


232  MRS.    TREGASKISS. 

there's  a  black  boy  riding  up  through  the  clearing,  and  he 
doesn't  look  like  one  of  our  lot." 

"My  word  !"  cried  Ning,  in  mongrel  English  ;  "yarra- 
man  belonging  to  that  fellow  plenty  knocked  up." 

"He's  got  rather  the  look  of  Gordon's  last  messenger," 
observed  Gladys,  "a  sort  of  '  beleaguered  city '  air." 

Gladys  was  not  altogether  wrong  in  her  conjecture. 
Tregaskiss,  who  had  been  mending  saddles  in  the  work- 
shop, came  in  presently  with  a  letter  in  his  hand.  The 
boy  had  ridden  over  in  hot  haste  from  Brinda  Plains, 
bearer  of  an  urgent  request  from  Mr.  Cusack,  that  Tregas- 
kiss would  bring  over  such  armed  men  as  he  could  muster, 
for  the  protection  of  the  Brinda  Plains  head-station  and 
woolshed,  upon  which  a  large  force  of  unionists  were  re- 
ported to  be  marching.  He  was  also  begged  to  send  the 
news  to  Geneste.  Mr.  Cusack  stated  that  he  had  already 
invoked  the  aid  of  the  specials  from  Ilgandah,but  that  as 
they  might  be  engaged  on  the  same  duty  elsewhere,  he  con- 
sidered it  wise  to  appeal  also  to  his  neighbours.  The  letter 
concluded  with  an  invitation  to  Mrs.  Tregaskiss  and  her 
friend,  if  they  should  be  nervous  about  remaining  without 
sufficient  guard  at  home,  to  accompany  Tregaskiss  and  his 
men,  so  that  all  the  ladies  might  be  safely  under  one  roof 
and  duly  protected.  There  was  no  danger  of  their  en- 
countering the  marauders  on  the  route,  nor  the  slightest 
risk  of  violence  to  them,  as  the  strikers  were  moving 
from  an  opposite  direction.  But  it  was  well  to  be  prepared 
against  all  possible  contingencies,  and  if  the  alarm  came  to 
nothing,  they  could,  no  doubt,  find  sufficient  amusement 
at  Brinda  Plains  to  repay  them  for  the  trouble  of  the  long 
ride.  Clearly,  in  Mr.  Cusack's  estimation,  a  stay  at  Brinda 
Plains  under  any  conditions  was  preferable  to  residence 
at  Mount  \Vombo. 

There  was  a  lofty  patronage  in  the  tenor  of  Mr.  Cu- 
sack's invitation,  blending  amusingly  with  his  evident 
alarm  and  anxiety  to  swell  the  force  at  Brinda  Plains  as 


THE   "SPECIALS"   ON  DUTY.  233 

much  as  possible,  which  Gladj'S  scented,  and  which 'pro- 
voked Mrs.  Tregaskiss'  scorn.  Tregaskiss  was  as  elated  as 
a  schoolboy  ;  he  wanted  to  set  off  at  once.  Clare  demurred, 
and  it  was  finally  settled  that  he  should  start  over  by  him- 
self that  evening,  leaving  the  ladies  to  follow  under  Mr. 
Shand's  escort  on  the  following  morning.  Mr.  Hansen  was 
to  be  recalled  from  the  out-station,  to  keep  watch  at  Mount 
Wombo,  and  to  send  on  the  alarm  in  case  of  any  attack, 
which  was  considered  very  improbable.  Tregaskiss  ex- 
cused his  haste  to  obey  the  summons  on  the  plea  that  he 
might  be  able  to  pounce  more  easily  on  the  men  who  had 
killed  his  horses.  He  was  also  going  to  take  some  spare 
horses,  which  would  be  left  halfway,  in  readiness  for  the 
morrow.  A  long  cavalcade  started  early  the  next  morn- 
ing. Mr.  Shand  drove  the  buggy  with  Mrs.  Tregaskiss, 
the  children,  and  Claribel.  The  baggage  was  partly 
strapped  on  behind,  but  Mrs.  Hilditch's  gowns  necessitated 
a  pack-horse  as  well,  and  Gladys  rode  beside  the  black  boy 
who  drove  it.  Gladys  manner  showed  tension,  and  Clare 
divined  something  of  her  state  of  repressed  excitement. 
She,  too,  was  inwardly  perturbed,  for  was  she  not  going  to 
meet  Geneste  ?  It  was  more  than  to  be  expected  that  he 
would  obey  the  summons,  for  he  would"  know  that  she  had 
left  Mount  Wombo — she  had  taken  the  precaution  of 
giving  him  this  information,  so  that  he  might  not  be  anxious 
and  perhaps  have  a  needless  ride  to  assure  himself  that  all 
was  well.  So  Clare  excused  her  letter  to  him,  but  she 
knew  only  too  well  that  the  craving  to  be  with  him  was  in- 
creasing day  by  day,  and  the  repressive  system  which  both 
had  so  far  conscientiously  pursued,  seemed  in  both  but  to 
sharpen  the  edge  of  longing.  Sometimes  Clare  wondered 
whether,  in  spite  of  her  vow,  barriers  would  one  day  be 
thrown  down,  and  the  touch  of  his  lips,  the  pressure  of  his 
arms,  be  again  courted  in  desperate  heart-hunger  which 
would  endure  no  denial.  Then  she  would  fall  on  her  knees 
and  pray  ;  and  she  would  look  at  the  little  cross,  which 


234  MRS.   TREGASKISS. 

was  the  symbol  of  all  she  held  most  holy,  and  recall  the 
vow  which  she  had  made  ;  she  had  superstitious  dread 
lest,  if  she  allowed  herself  to  drift  into  more  lover-like 
relations  with  Geneste,  the  expiatory  penalty  she  had  half 
invoked  upon  her  child  would  be  duly  dealt  forth. 

So  these  two  women  had  each  their  secret  anxieties  and 
passionate  musings,  as  they  went  on  their  journey  through 
the  length  of  that  tropical  day.  The  heat  was  intense,  and 
seemed  reflected  from  the  parched  plain  ;  the  cattle,  lean  and 
thirsty,  looked  up  pathetically  from  their  scanty  pastur- 
age ;  the  water-holes  were  dry  and  parched  ;  the  flies 
swarmed  round  the  buggy ;  desolation  and  drought 
reigned  on  the  face  of  the  land.  Then,  when  the  plains 
ended,  came  more  melancholy  stretches  of  gidia  scrub — the 
sandy  flat  with  nothing  but  salt-bush  growing  beneath  the 
stunted,  dried-up  trees,  and  as  afternoon  crept  on,  the  still- 
ness of  noonday  giving  place  to  strange  insect  noises, 
whirring  of  locusts,  and  scutteriug  of  iguana. 

"When  they  halted  for  the  change  of  horses,  Gladys 
gave  a  little  shudder,  and  for  the  first  time  professed  her- 
self disenchanted  with  bush  life. 

"  How  have  you  lived  all  these  years,  with  every  faculty 
in  you  starved,  and  no  hope  of  escape  from  these  dreary 
desert  plains  ?  "  she  cried. 

"Ah,  you  haven't  seen  the  plains  after  rain  and  in  the 
early  spring,"  answered  Clare.  "  They  are  beautiful  then, 
with  the  sandal-wood  in  blossom,  and  the  horrible  lignum 
vitae  covered  with  the  most  beautiful  white  flowers.  And 
here  is  someone  worse  off  than  I  am." 

They  had  stopped  at  a  fencer's  encampment,  and  a  hand- 
some, discontented  young  woman  appeared  at  the  opening 
of  a  tent  which  had  a  bough-shade  in  front  of  it,  and  invited 
them  in.  She  took  a  baby  out  of  a  tub,  which  she  turned 
upside  down  for  Gladys  to  sit  upon.  "  It's  an  outlandish 
place  to  see  a  lady,"  she  said,  "  and  you  don't  look  like  the 
bush,  somehow."  She  made  them  some  qunrt-pot  tea,  and 


Till-:   "SPECIALS"   ON  DUTY.  235 

Clare,  with  her  patient  kindliness,  took  the  dirty,  crying 
baby  on  her  knee  and  nursed  it  into  quietude,  while  Claribel 
walked  about  with  her  own.  Gladys  helped  to  prepare  the 
tea,  and  Ning  prattled  in  her  queer  way  ;  it  was  not  an 
unpleasant  interlude,  and  roused  both  the  women,  perhaps 
the  fencer's  wife  too,  from  morbid  dreams,  bringing  Mrs. 
Tregaskiss  once  more  into  the  demesne  of  practical  life. 
She  talked  to  the  fencer's  wife  about  her  baby,  about  the 
hardships  of  her  lot,  and  bade  her  try  and  get  over  for 
a  short  holiday  to  Mount  Wombo.  They  might  perhaps 
manage  to  give  her  and  the  baby  a  lift  on  their  return 
journey,  she  said  ;  and  then  she  had  the  pack  unstrapped 
and  searched  till  she  found  a  tin  of  groats  and  some  pre- 
served milk  for  the  child. 

It  was  nearly  dark  when  they  reached  Brinda  Plains, 
and  the  many  verandaed  house,  standing  in  its  green 
garden,  was,  Gladys  said,  like  an  oasis  in  a  march  through 
Sahara.  It  did  not  seem  as  though  the  place  were  in  par- 
ticular need  of  an  armed  force  to  protect  it,  though  there 
was  a  look  of  expectancy  upon  the  faces  of  the  men  drawn 
up  in  an  irregular  line  close  to  the  woolshed,  in  the  veranda 
of  which  a  number  of  bales  ready  sewn  up  were  waiting 
for  cartage,  and  a  row  of  carbines  near  them  suggested 
preparations  for  siege.  A  party  of  ladies,  among  whom  was 
Tregaskiss,  were  standing  near  the  workings  as  the  buggy 
drove  up,  and  Helen,  followed  by  Tregaskiss  and  Miss  Law- 
ford,  came  forward. 

"  Oh,  Mrs.  Tregaskiss,  how  nice  of  you  to  come  and  to 
bring  Mrs.  Hilditch  !  A\re  did  so  want  to  see  Mrs.  Hilditch. 
Mother  says  that  father's  concern  about  the  strikers  was  all 
a  plant  to  get  Mrs.  Hilditch  over," — Helen  did  not  disdain 
occasional  Australianisms.  "  We  have  heard  nothing  more, 
and  now  we  have  got  the  specials,  and  we  dance  every 
evening,  and  it  is  really  great  fun.  Miss  Lawford  and  I 
are  wishing  that  there  might  be  an  alarm  every  week." 

Helen's  greetings  to  Mrs.  Hilditch  were  tempered  with 


236  MRS.   TREGASKISS. 

awe.  What  a  wonderful  place  must  England  be,  if  it  pro- 
duced only  such  beings  as  these  two  women,  and  was  it  a 
marvel  that  Englishmen  did  not  take  Australian  girls  to 
wife  when  they  had  the  chance  of  marrying  a  Clare  Tre- 
gaskiss  or  a  Gladys  Hilditch  ?  Such  were  her  reflections, 
and  she  did  not  know  that  both  Gladys  and  Clare  were 
studying  her  with  a  wistful  interest,  and  wondering,  in  their 
turn,  that  Australian  men  should  ever  want  to  go  elsewhere 
for  their  mates. 

Miss  Lawford  was  hysterically  effusive,  especially  to  the 
children.  She  insisted  upon  carrying  the  baby,  and  held 
King's  hand  as  she  walked  beside  the  child's  father.  She 
had  a  fretted,  anxious  appearance,  and  her  nervousness  took 
the  form  of  forced  gaiety.  Poor  little  mortal  !  she,  too, 
meant  no  harm  ;  she  was  only  a  loosely  tied  bundle  of 
nerves  and  sensations,  cravings  for  excitement  and  unhealthy 
impulses,  tossed  about  at  the  caprice  of  fate,  and  rebound- 
ing with  more  or  less  force  against  the  circumstances  that 
environed  her.  Moreover,  strange  as  it  may  appear,  she  was 
the  victim  of  a  genuine  infatuation  for  Tregaskiss,  one  of 
those  attractions  of  physique  and  temperament  as  com- 
pelling, after  their  fashion,  as  others  of  the  more  spiritual 
kind.  His  strong  animal  vitality  dominated  her  nervous 
and  morbid  disposition,  and  gave  her  the  stimulant  her 
nature  needed.  The  fact  that  he  was  married,  and  that  she 
hated  Mrs.  Tregaskiss  and  wished  to  make  her  uncomfort- 
able, had  at  first  given  zest  to  the  flirtation  now  long  past 
that  stage,  and  which,  to  do  Tregaskiss  credit,  would  never 
have  gone  the  length  it  had  done,  but  for  her  encourage- 
ment and  her  sudden  avowal  that  she  was  in  love  with 
him.  "In  love"  expresses  the  feverish  sentiment  which 
consumed  both  ;  it  is  very  doubtful  whether  either  of  the 
two  was  capable  of  love  as  a  permanent  condition. 

Mr.  Cusack  was  a  little  ashamed  of  his  hasty  summons. 

"Told  Tregaskiss  that  I  knew  it  was  the  only  "way  to 
bring  you  over,"  lie  said  blusteringly.  "  It  would  never  have 


THE   "SPECIALS"   ON  DUTY.  237 

done  for  Mrs.  Hilditch  to  leave  the  district  without  seeing 
Briuda  Plains.  Not  that  I'm  one  to  'blow,'  as  we 
Australians  put  it,  but  things  are  as  they  are,  Mrs.  Hilditch, 
and  if  this  is  considered  the  show  place  on  the  Leura,  that's 
not  my  fault,  is  it  ?  " 

He  was  very  attentive  to  Gladys.  A  beautiful  widow 
with  five  thousand  a  year  was  a  personage  to  command 
consideration.  Mrs.  Cusack,  too,  was  anxious  to  show  that 
they  were  thoroughly  English,  and  that  if  the  gentlemen 
did  not  don  the  regulation  dress-suit  for  dinner,  it  was  only 
because  the  heat  compelled  them  to  adopt  a  cooler  costume. 
She  insisted  in  summer  upon  immaculate  garments  of  white 
duck,  so  she  informed  Gladj'-s,  and  woe  betide  the  unhappy 
traveller  unsuitably  equipped. 

"  Of  course  you  know,  my  dear,"  explained  the  lady  of 
Brinda  Plains,  "  if  a  person  sends  in  his  name,  it  is  under- 
stood in  the  bush  that  he  is  received  into  the  parlour, 
but  unless  we  see  that  he  is  a  gentleman  and  accustomed 
to  the  ways  of  society,  we  do  not  quite  treat  him  as  one 
of  ourselves."  .  .  •'•• 

Geneste  was  in  the  veranda  when  the  Mount  Wombo 
party  arrived.  He  had  come  an  hour  or  two  earlier.  At 
dinner,  Mrs.  Hilditch  having  been  given  the  place  of 
honour,  he  found  himself  beside  Clare. 

"Where  is  Mr.  Blanchard?"  she  asked. 

"  Poor  Blauchard  !  I  don't  think  he  was  prepared  for 
the  surprise  in  store  for  him.  He  has  been  at  Ilgandah 
after  the  specials,  and  only  came  back  just  before  dinner. 
The  new  chums  are  having  their  meal  at  the  bachelors' 
quarters, — like  the  grown-up  children  who  are  sent  to  the 
school-room  when  there's  a  dinner  party, — to  make  room 
for  our  brave  defenders." 

The  specials,  mustering  about  a  dozen,  and  their  gray 
uniforms  turned  back  with  scarlet,  made  an  agreeable 
variety  among  the  white  duck  garments  at  the  table. 
They  were  mostly  young  men,  "  the  gilded  youth  of 


238  MRS.    TREGASKISS. 

Leichardt's  Land,  as  the  Leura  Chronicle  called  them,  who 
had  volunteered  for  the  occasion,  and  were  having  rather 
a  good  time  among  the  Leura  young  ladies.  Helen 
Cusack  had  one  of  them  on  her  right,  and  young  Gillcspie 
on  the  other  side  of  the  table  looked  cross,  and  would 
hardly  speak  to  another  special  who  was  his  next  neigh- 
bour. Clare  noticed  that  he  had  lost  his  consumptive  ap- 
pearance, and  Mrs.  Cusack  drew  attention  to  this  increase 
of  flesh  and  colour,  which  she  attributed  to  the  excellent 
care  she  had  given  him. 

"  I  wish  I  could  have  poor  Mrs.  Carmody  over  here  for 
six  months,"  said  that  good  lady.  "I'd  make  a  cure  with 
my  egg  flip  and  port-wine  jelly,  sooner  than  you  will  do, 
Dr.  Geneste,  with  your  drugs." 

"  I  wish  my  drugs  had  a  chance,"  said  Geneste,  "  not  that 
I  believe  in  drugs  anyhow,  but  Carmody  won't  have  it 
that  there  is  anything  the  matter,  and  will  not  let  me  sug- 
gest anything." 

"  Oh,  well,"  said  Mrs.  Cusack  comfortably,  "  she  is  much 
better  again  now,  poor  thing  !  such  a  colour,  and  in  capital 
spirits.  She  needs  to  have  a  spirit,  with  all  those  children 
depending  upon  her." 

"  I  wish  you  would  go  over  and  see  Mrs.  Carmody," 
Geneste  said  to  Mrs.  Tregaskiss.  "  She  and  her  husband 
both  dislike  the  Cusacks — except  Miss  Cusack,  of  course, 
and  it  is  difficult  for  her  to  see  much  of  them.  She  told 
me  that  she  had  taken  a  great  fancy  to  you." 

"  I  will  go  certainly  ;  but  how  ?     We  are  a  long  way  off." 

"  Not  when  you  are  here.  If  you  stay  long  enough,  we 
might  ride  over  one  day  to  luncheon — it  is  not  more  than 
fifteen  miles.  I  can't  help  thinking  you  would  be  a  com- 
fort to  her." 

They  fell  into  silence.  To  talk  commonplace  was  dif- 
ficult now,  and  nothing  else  was  possible.  Sometimes  it 
seemed  to  Clare  that  words  between  them  were  not  needed, 
the  joy  of  being  near  each  other,  with  the  bond  of  perfect 


THE   "SPECIALS"   OX  DUTY.  239 

sympathy  uniting  their  souls,  was  sufficient  to  make  all 
conditions  paradisaic,  and  then  at  other  times  she  had  a 
desperate  sense  of  revolt  against  limitations,  and  told  her- 
self that  it  would  be  almost  better  never  to  see  him  at  all 
than  under  such  restraint.  To-night,  once  or  twice  she 
became  conscious  that  Helen  Cusack  was  watching  them, 
and  there  was  something  in  the  girl's  wistful  gaze  which 
went  to  her  heart.  What  right  had  she  to  come  and 
take  away  Helen's  lover  ?  for  she  had  an  intuition  that, 
but  for  her,  Geneste  would  now  be  Helen's  declared  suitor. 
Geneste  himself,  to  a  certain  extent,  shared  this  feeling, 
and  could  never  rid  himself  altogether  of  a  sense  of  dis- 
loyalty. Helen  was  in  truth  very  unhappy,  but  she  had  a 
brave  heart,  and  determined  that  Geneste  should  not  suspect 
her  secret.  Least  of  all  would  she  have  it  suspected  by  Mrs. 
Tregaskiss,  though  as  yet  her  vague  fancy  that  Geneste 
had  any  deeper  regard  for  Clare  than  that  of  a  friend  had 
not  definitely  shaped  itself  in  her  mind.  But  the  mind 
of  a  pure  girl  is,  unconsciously  to  itself,  a  touchstone. 
Helen  was  wretched,  because  her  instinct  told  her  that 
there  were  complications  in  the  lives  of  those  around  her, 
not  all  for  good.  She  wished  that  her  mother  would  send 
away  Miss  Lawford  ;  she  wished  that  Mr.  Tregaskiss  could 
be  induced  to  take  less  whiskey,  and,  in  their  preparations 
for  this  evening,  she  had  begged  Mrs.  Cusack  to  be  less 
liberal  with  the  rum  in  her  concoction  of  the  Leura  mix- 
ture. It  was,  however,  hardly  necessary  to  give  Mrs. 
Cusack  the  warning,  for  as  a  matter  of  fact  the  neighbour- 
hood was  by  this  time  pretty  well  aware  of  Tregaskiss' 
weakness.  "  What  a  pity  !  "  people  said, — those  at  any  rate 
who  felt  themself  unassailable  in  the  matter  of  too  free  in- 
dulgence in  "  nips," — "  such  a  good-looking  fellow,  and  soci- 
able and  open-handed,  too,  when  the  humour  took  him — 
though  he  could  be  near  enough  in  some  ways,  and,  unlike 
old  Cyrus  Chance,  whose  bark  was  alwajrs  worse  than  his 
bite,  free  in  promises,  though  not  so  ready  in  fulfilment." 


240  MRS.   TREGASKISS. 

Tregaskiss  was  morosely  silent,  and  his  e}res  had  a  wild 
look.  Clave  watched  him  with  dread.  She  was  always 
nervous  when  with  him  in  company,  and  she,  too,  was  silent 
and  preoccupied.  The  dinner  went,  however,  in  other  re- 
spects merrily  enough.  The  specials  had  a  great  deal  to 
say  for  themselves.  Mr.  Cusack  talked  loudly,  and  Gladys 
was  feverishly  animated  in  her  quiet,  well-bred  way.  She 
responded  readily  to  Mr.  Cusack's  sallies,  but  her  eyes 
wandered  searchingly  round,  and  she  paled  at  the  sound  of 
any  stir  outside.  After  dinner,  when  they  were  all  sitting  in 
the  veranda,  a  little  troop  of  tall  men  in  white  clothes  filed 
out  through  the  drawing-room,  and  Mrs.  Cusack  called  out : 

"  Come,  Mr.  Shand,  I  hope  you  got  properly  looked  after 
at  the  quarters !  You  see,  we  are  rather  crowded  out. 
Mr.  Blanchard,  I  hope  you  have  brought  down  some  songs. 
I  am  sure  Mrs.  Hilditch  would  like  to  hear  them.  Come 
and  be  introduced  to  Mrs.  Hilditch.  This  is  Mr.  Blanchard," 
she  added  to  Gladys.  "  He  has  not  been  so  very  long  out 
from  England,  and  so  yon  should  have  plenty  to  talk  about. 
We  all  chaff  Mr.  Blanchard  about  being  so  very  English." 


CHAPTER  XX. 

GLADYS   PLEADS. 

AMBROSE  BLANCHARD  bowed  profoundly.  Gladys  half 
rose  and  held  out  her  hand. 

"  Mr.  Blanchard  and  I  have  met  in  England,"  she  said. 

Mrs.  Cusack  was  all  amazement.  "And  you  never  told 
us!"  she  exclaimed  reproachfully  to  the  young  man. 
"And  when  we  were  all  so  excited  at  hearing  of  Mrs. 
Tregaskiss'  English  friend — we  don't  often  have  such 
visitors  on  the  Leura,"  she  added,  turning  to  Gladys," — "  I 
think  it  is  very  strange  of  Mr.  Blanchard  to  have  kept  so 
close  about  you." 

"  Not  at  all  strange,"  replied  Gladys,  with  self-possession. 
"  There  are  other  Mrs.  Hilditches  in  the  world  ;  it  is  a 
very  common  name,  and  I  have  several  sisters-in-law. 
Come,"  she  said,  making  a  dexterous  movement,  which 
swept  her  squatter's  chair  well  back  into  the  shadow  of  a 
vine,  and  motioning,  with  a  little  imperious  movement,  to 
Blanchard  to  obey  her  signal,  "  do  sit  down  and  tell  me 
everything  that  has  happened  to  you  since  we  met." 

He  drew  another  chair  beside  her.  Far  less  composed 
than  she,  it  was  a  minute  or  two  before  he  answered. 
That  moment  of  silence  was  big  with  memories.  To 
Ambrose  Blanchard,  Gladys  Hilditch  represented  the 
supreme  temptation  of  his  life  ;  he  had  fled  from  her  in 
distrust  of  himself,  and,  as  she  believed,  in  scorn  of  her. 

"There  is  not  much  to  tell,"  he  said.  "I've  knocked 
about  and  roughed  it  a  good  deal ;  and  I  made  a  little 
money  at  the  gold  fields,  and  then  I  lost  it ;  now  I  am 
here,  learning  something  about  the  management  of  sheep, 

241 


242  MRS.   TKEGASKISS. 

with  an  idea  of  going  into  partnership  with  some  likely 
person  later  on."  He  paused,  and  she  said  nothing.  Now 
that  they  were  out  of  the  range  of  Mrs.  Cusack's  eyes,  she 
made  no  attempt  to  keep  up  the  farce  and  play  the  part 
of  a  tourist  amused  at  and  inquisitive  about  everything 
around  her.  "  It  is  very  good  of  you,"  he  added,  "  to  be 
interested  in  my  doings." 

Still  she  made  no  repty. 

"Have  you — have  you,"  he  asked  nervously,  "seen  any- 
thing of  my  people?" 

"  You  know  we  gave  up  Fehuarshes,"  Glady's  returned, 
without  directly  answering  his  question. 

"  I  had  not  heard.  But  of  course  there  must  have  been 
a  difference,"  he  said  vaguely.  "  I  know  nothing  ;  nobody 
has  written." 

"I  heard  from  Gertrude  not  long  ago  ;  she  said  they 
had  had  a  letter  from  you." 

"  Poor  Gertrude  !  I  conclude  that  my  father  has  forbid- 
den her  to  hold  communication  with  his  renegade  son." 

"  She  says  that  she  is  bound  by  her  promise  to  him.  I 
think  she  interprets  it  rather  too  literally." 

"  Well,  I  suppose  that  a  wife  is  bound  to  obey  her  hus- 
band," he  replied.  "I  confess  that  I  had  little  hope  of  any 
good  coming  from  her  intercession.  However,  her  boy 
will  be  the  gainer — though  that  was  not  the  point.  But  I 
have  nothing  to  say  against  Gertrude,"  he  added.  "  She 
was  a  very  good  stepmother." 

"Oh,  yes,  Mrs.  Blanch ard  would  perform  always  what 
was  in  her  bond,"  said  Gladys  ;  "  but  she  would  not  do  any- 
thing more,  especially  if  it  were  against  her  interests." 

"  Perhaps !  And  you  don't  know  anything  about  my 
father — poor  old  chap?"  Blanchard  spoke  with  feeling. 

"I  know  that  he  is  looking  dreadfully  aged  ;  and 
though  he  is  as  hard  as  a  rock,  and  will  never  go  from  his 
word,  I  am  sure  he  frets  a  good  deal  about  you." 

"Then  you  have  seen  him?"  cried  Blanchard  eagerly. 


GLADYS  PLEADS.  243 

"  I  went  down  to  see  him  ;  .and  it  was  he  who  told  me 
where  you  were.  I  wanted  to  be  able  to  give  you  the  last 
news  of  him — if  we  should  meet." 

"  That  was  good  of  you  ;  but So  it  was  of  no  use  ?  " 

"  No,  it  was  of  no  use.  If  you  want  to  do  any  good,  you 
must  go  home." 

"I  can't  do  that,"  Blanchard  answered.  "I  am  like  my 
father  ;  and  I  cannot  go  back  from  my  word.  He  was 
looking  ill,  you  say  ?" 

"Yes;  infirm  and  broken.  Mr.  Blanchard,  do  not  be 
stubborn;  go  home  and  be  reconciled." 

"  I  am  afraid  that  is  impossible,"  he  answered.  There 
was  a  pause  and  then  he  said  :  "  I  am  very  glad,  since  you 
decided  to  visit  Australia,  that  you  should  have  come 
where  we  were  certain  to  meet." 

"  I Of  course  I  should  naturally  want  to  be  with 

Clare  Tregaskiss.  We  were  girls  together." 

"  I  remember  your  telling  me  that  you  had  a  friend  in 
Australia,  but  I  only  learned  the  other  day  that  it  was 
Mrs.  Tregaskiss." 

Again  there  was  a  pause.  He  went  on  in  a  conventional 
tone  : 

"  You  must  have  been  sorry  to  give  up  Felmarshes." 

"No,  I  was  not  sorry,"  she  added.  "It  was  while  we 
were  in  Egypt  that  winter — after  you  left — that  Mr.  Hil- 
ditch  got  so  much  worse.  We  never  went  back  to  Fel- 
marshes again." 

"  I  was  very  sorry  to  hear  of  your  loss,"  he  said,  still 
conventionally. 

"  Oil,  don't  let  us  talk  as  if  we  stood  quite  outside  the 
truth  of  everything  !"  Gladys  exclaimed,  her  whole  manner 
changing,  as  she  turned  her  eyes  on  him  for  an  instant  in 
piercing  reproach.  "  You  must  know  how  I  feel  about  it ; 
and  how  I  have  hated  myself.  But  I," — she  faltered, 
and  there  came  into  her  voice  the  break  as  of  tears, — "I 
tried  to  (1o  what  I  could  for  him." 


244  MRS.   TREGASKISS. 

"  Indeed,  I  am  sure  of  that." 

"I  don't  know  why  you  should  be  so  sure  of  it,"  she 
answered,  with  a  sad  little  laugh.  "Your  opinion  can't 
have  altered  much,  and  you  never  thought  well  of  me  in  old 
days — not  even  as  well,  perhaps,  as  I  deserved.  You  never 
gave  me  credit  for  being  sincere  about  anything.  You 
looked  upon  me  as  a  mere  vain,  heartless  creature  of 
moods,  living  for  the  distraction  of  the  hour  and  taking 
my  moral  hashisch  in  whatever  form  it  happened  to  offer 
itself — society,  gambling,  amateur  philanthropy,  religion, 
preaching  woman's  wrongs " 

"  Or  breaking  men's  hearts,"  he  put  in  bitterly. 

"  Yes  ;  I  know  what  you  are  thinking  of.  Well,  I'll 
admit  it  ;  breaking  men's  hearts,  if  you  choose."  Her 
voice  had  become  hard,  and  she  spoke  with  a  defiant 
accent.  "  It  was  a  bad  business,  that  of  your  friend,  the 
Socialist.  It  cured  me  of  my  East-End  mania  and  of 
my  democratic  tendencies.  It  cured  me  of  other  tilings, 
besides." 

"  Don't  !  "  he  exclaimed,  half  stretching  out  his  hand  as 
though  her  words  and  manner  hurt  him  too  severely. 

"  Yes,  I  know.  You  are  thinking  that  I  am  as  heartless 
as  ever — that  I  am  glorying,  perhaps,  at  this  moment,  in 
the  thought  that  a  man  killed  himself  because  of  me. 
You  meant  me  to  know  that  ;  you  did  not  spare  me.  I 
got  his  letter — and  the  rest.  The  outside  envelope  told 
me  that  you  had  sent  it — that  you  had  guessed  I  was  the 
woman  he  meant.  I  knew  that  tie  was  the  reason  that 
you  never  came  to  see  me  any  more." 

"  Ironside  was  my  friend — and  I  saw  him  lying  dead." 

"  Do  you  think,"  she  cried,  "  that  I,  too,  haven't  seen 
him  tying  dead — night  after  night,  in  my  dreams,  and 
when  I  have  wakened  up  cold,  in  the  darkness,  and  trem- 
bling with  terror?  Would  you  believe  that  I  nearly  died 
of  the  horror  of  it  ?  And  do  you  think,  too,  that  would 
have  happened  if  I  had  met  you  before  I  met  him?  " 


GLADYS  PLEADS.  245 

"  I  don't  know.  How  can  I  tell.  I  suppose  a  bird  of 
prey  must  obey  its  instincts." 

"  A  bird  of  prey  !     Oh,  you  are  cruel  !" 

She  leaned  back  in  the  chair,  drawing  her  body  together 
with  a  slight  shudder.  For  several  minutes  neither  spoke. 
A  lamp  was  moved  within,  and  the  light  of  it  streamed 
through  the  French  window  on  to  Gladys'  face.  It  gave 
him  a  shock  to  see  how  her  face  had  changed  ;  and  how  that 
sudden  look  of  age  had  come  upon  it.  Just  then  there  was 
a  noise  and  stir,  as  Mr.  Cusack,  followed  by  some  of  the 
gentlemen  who  had  remained  in  the  dining-room,  came 
out  and  spoke  to  a  trooper  waiting  outside.  He  had  to 
report  news  communicated  by  a  traveller,  stopping  for  the 
night  at  the  huts,  to  the  effect  that  the  unionists,  hearing 
the  station  was  so  well  guarded,  had  abandoned  their  war- 
like purpose,  and  were  quietly  dispersing.  The  incident 
occasioned  some  flutter  in  the  veranda,  and  under  cover  of 
it  Gladys  rose,  withdrawing  from  the  light.  Blanchard 
got  up,  too,  and  was  making  a  formal  excuse  for  leaving 
her,  but  she  stopped  him. 

"  No,  no  !  What  does  it  matter  about  the  unionists  ? 
I  felt  that  the  prospect  of  an  attack  was  too  good  to  come 
true.  It  would  have  been  exciting;  but  I  am  doomed  to 
be  disappointed.  "Well,  aren't  you  saying  to  yourself  : 
'That  is  just  how  she  used  to  be;  the  bird  of  prey 
instincts  are  so  strong  in  her  still '  ?  " 

"No,"  he  replied.  "  I  am  sorry  I  said  that.  I  see  that 
it  wounded  you." 

"  Come  out  into  the  garden,"  she  said  abruptly.  "  I  see 
there  are  people  walking  about.  I  can  make  out  Dr. 
Geneste  and,  is  it  Clare — or  pretty  Miss  Cusack  ?  Ah,  it's 
Clare  !  I  wonder  you  did  not  fall  in  love  with  Miss 
Cusack.  But,  perhaps  you  have  fallen  in  love  with  her  ?" 

He  made  an  impatient  gesture  of  denial. 

They  were  in  the  garden  now,  walking  between  the  lit- 
tle avenue  of  orange  trees.  Gladys  stopped  to  comment 


246  MttS.   TREGASKISS. 

upon  the  stars — to  ask  questions  about  the  southern  con- 
stellations. She  thought  the  Southern  Cross  overrated  ; 
and  she  had  seen  nothing  on  the  Leura  yet,  in  the  matter 
of  atmospheric  effect,  comparable  to  the  Egyptian  after- 
glow. She  had  observed,  also,  that  the  fashion  of  sleeves 
ill  the  bush  was  in  the  same  stage  of  evolution  as  in 
the  remoter  districts  of  London.  That  means  survival  of 
monstrosity.  "  Please  observe  the  cut  of  mine.  The 
sleeves  in  the  London  streets  got  on  my  nerves  ;  they 
were  making  me  seriously  ill — they,  and  other  things  ; 
it's  always  the  last  straw,  you  know.  When  I  told  my 
doctor,  he  suggested  a  trip  into  the  wilds  of  Africa  or 
Australia.  But  you  see  that  there's  no  escape  for  me. 
That  little,  dark,  prettyish,  fifth-rate-looking  governess, 
whom  Mr.  Tregaskiss  seems  to  admire,  would  do  credit  to 
"Westbourne  Grove.  There's  one  atrocity  of  civilisation, 
however,  that  I  don't  find  here.  Cook  hasn't  yet  vul- 
garised the  blacks." 

"  No  doubt  they  are  being  demoralised  by  more  per- 
nicious influences  of  civilisation." 

lie  spoke  awkwardly.  Her  inconsequent  chatter,  veil- 
ing, as  he  felt  it  did,  an  agitation  she  was  afraid  might 
master  her,  afflicted  him  terribly,  and  when  she  answered 
with  her  soft,  falsely-strung  laugh  : 

"  Oh,  of  course,  human  nature  is  the  same  all  the  world 
over,  and  the  vices  of  barbarism  are  pretty  much  what 
one  finds  them  in  London  drawing-rooms." 

"  I  am  beginning  to  discover  that  here  already  ! "  he 
exclaimed  impetuously.  "  It  is  my  turn  now  to  beseech 
you  that  we  may  not  talk  banalities.  At  least  let  us  be 
true  to  ourselves." 

"Even  to  our  vices?"  she  asked,  laughing  again;  and 
then  went  on  in  a  totally  different  tone  : 

"  Yes,  that's  what  I  came  to  Australia  for.  I  wanted  to 
tell  you  the  truth  about  something." 

"  To  tell  'me  !"  he  repeated... 


GLADYS  PLEADS.  247 

"  You  can't  accuse  me  this  time  of  not  being  candid.  It 
is  not  often  a  woman  has  the  honesty  to  own  to  a  man 
that  she  has  travelled  twelve  thousand  miles — more  or 
less — on  the  chance  of  seeing  him.  Let  us  sit  here." 

She  had  halted  at  the  seat  under  the  passion  vine,  to 
which  he  had  almost  unconsciously  led  her,  as  the  most 
retired  which  the  garden  offered.  He  did  not  obey  her 
invitation  to  place  himself  by  her  side,  but  stood  leaning 
against  the  trellis,  and  there  was  something  aloof  and 
judicial  in  his  aspect — the  result  indeed  of  nervous  tension 
and  not  of  disapprobation — which  goaded  her  to  desperate 
frankness. 

"  I  wanted  to  tell  you  the  whole  truth  about  my 
relations  with  Mr.  Ironside.  I  never  talked  to  you  much 
about  him.  I  did  not  know  you  were  such  great  friends 
till— after  everything  was  over.  I  never  saw  you 
together." 

"  We  were  not  much  together — at  that  time,  and  '  great 
friends,'  in  the  ordinary  sense,  we  were  not,"  he  answered 
stiffly.  "  We  had  different  grooves  of  action.  I  may  say 
now  that  I  did  not  S}'rmpathise  entirely  with  poor  Ironside's 
methods,  which  latterly  got  too  anarchic  for  my  taste. 
As  the  demagogue,  I  confess  that  he  jarred  a  little  upon 
me,  bat  as  the  man " 

"  Ah,  the  man  !     He  was  one  by  himself." 

"  As  the  man,  he  influenced  my  life  more  than  any  other 
human  being  has  done.  It  was  he  who  first  inoculated  me 
with  socialistic  theories — notions  that  I  feel  now  to  have 
been  mistaken.  He  first  brought  home  to  me  the  virtue 
of  intellectual  honesty,  and  made  me  feel  the  absolute 
necessity  of  giving  up  the  Church.  He  was  like  the  spark 
to  the  tow,  and  his  enthusiasm  carried  one  along  with  the 
force  of  a  high  wind  driving  a  flame.  Then  I  admired  his 
immense  resources ;  his  power  of  organisation.  His  very 
fanaticism  was  inspiring." 

"  He   was   a   fanatic   in  everything,"   assented   Gladys. 


248  MRS.   TREGASKISS. 

"He  was  bound  to  die  for  something  before  reaching  his 
prime  ;  a  cause,  perhaps  as  little  worthy — as  the  woman." 
Her  voice  dropped.  "  It  is  not  heartlessness  which  makes 
me  speak  of  him  in  that  impersonal  way,"  she  said  gently. 
"  Please  believe  that.  I  have  thought  and  felt  so  much 
about  him,  that  I  have  got  to  look  upon  him  more  as  an 
instrument  of  fate  than  as  an  ordinary  human  being.  For 
me,  too,  in  a  very  different  way,  he  has  been  a  determin- 
ing influence." 

She  stopped.  Blanchard  seemed  to  be  waiting  for  her  to 
explain  herself  further.  She  began  again,  the  words  rush- 
ing forth  impulsively,  with  scarcely  any  break  : 

"  Mr.  Blanchard,  I  want  to  say  to  you,  in  my  own 
extenuation,  what  you  never  gave  me  a  chance  of  saying. 
I  don't  suppose  my  conduct  deserves  to  be  extenuated,  but 
at  any  rate  you  shall  know  now  the  exact  truth  about  it, 
and  you  shall  think  me,  then,  as  bad  as  you  please.  It  was 
not  vanity  and  greed  of  conquest  which  in  the  beginning 
made  me  see  all  I  could  of  John  Ironside.  It — it  was 
something  of  the  same  kind  of  feeling  which  later" — she 
hesitated — "  later  drew  me  to  you.  My  attraction  toward 
him  was  a  coarse,  crude  attempt  at  realising  that  feeling — 
in  him — which  was  afterward  realised  in  you.  Oh,  people 
make  such  a  mistake  in  supposing  that  women's  instinct 
always  guides  them  straight  in  matters  of  that  kind  ! 
One's  nature  has  a  need,  and  the  first  attempt  to  satisfy  it 
is  as  elementary,  often,  as  the  savages'  fetish-belief.  I 
don't  know  how  to  make  you  understand " 

"I  think  I  do  understand,"  he  said,  still  with  the  sug- 
gestion of  aloofness  in  his  manner.  "  You  thought  Iron- 
side might  help  you  as  you  afterward  fancied — mistakenly 
too — that  I  might  be  able  to  help  you.  Perhaps  we 
might  have  helped  you,  one  or  other  of  us,  if  we  had  been 
less  human  and  you — a  different  sort  of  woman." 

"  Ah  ! "  A  gleam  of  joy  came  into  Gladys'  face. 
"  Yes,  you  might  have  helped  me,"  she  said  slowly.  "  You 


GLADYS  PLEADS.  249 

might  have  done  a  great  deal  for  me.  But  you  would  not ; 
you  deserted  me.  John  Ironside  could  not  have  helped 
me — in  any  real  way.  There  was  no  real  affinity.  The 
elements  of  combination  weren't  there.  It  was  an  acci- 
dental attraction — one  that  had  nothing  to  do  with  spirit, 
though  the  attraction  was  genuine  enough,  at  first.  He 
happened  to  come  into  my  life  at  a  critical  moment,  when 
I  was  in  a  mood  of  intense  revulsion,  and  when  I  was 
utterly  rudderless.  For  the  moment  he  dominated  my 
nature,  and  his  charm  for  me  was  that  for  the  first  time  I 
encountered  what  seemed  a  granite  man.  We  acted  and 
reacted  upon  each  other.  I  think  the  influence  must  have 
had  something  electric  in  it." 

"Yours  upon  him  was  certainly  of  that  kind." 
"  In  the  beginning  it  was  the  fascination  of  repulsion, 
for  him,  anyhow,  I  fancy.  And  then  the  poles  changed. 
For  me  he  was  something  positive,  compelling.  He 
forced  life  upon  me  in  its  hideousness,  its  reality,  its  mag- 
nificent power — life  in  the  big  thrilling  sense,  not  in  that  of 
my  drawing-room  drama.  He  made  me  long  to  experi- 
ence the  grip  of  strong  feeling — of  an  intoxication  which 

freed  one  from  one's  self.     You  know No,  jrou  can't 

know,  or  guess,  what  my  marriage  was  to  me — the  awful 
deadness  of  it.  Sometimes  I  feel  that  Clare  Tregaskiss 
knows  and  understands,  but  she  is  strong,  she  can  hide 
what  she  suffers  under  that  strange  quiet  smile,  and  I  long 
to  tell  her,  to  talk  to  her  of  it,  and  I  dare  not.  Oh,  how 
one  agonised  for  a  breath  of  something  pungent.  I  tried  to 
get  it  in — well,  you  know  the  sort  of  flirtations  a  London 
woman  falls  into — and  the  kind  of  men.  I  tried  every- 
thing to  give  me  sensations — even  to  reading  horrid 
French  novels  ;  and  then  I  went  on  a  pilgrimage  to 
Lourdes  for  my  soul's  healing.  John  Ironside  was  the 
person  to  appeal  to  me  in  that  mood.  There  wasn't  the 
least  thought,  at  first,  of  making  him  love  me.  The  East- 
End  mania  was  genuine.  Then  there  came  a  dreadful 


250  MUS.   TREGASKISS. 

moment  when  that  excitement  palled,  and  I  saw  another 
excitement, — straight  in  front  of  me, — one  I'd  never  had  be- 
fore. I  saw  that  the  granite  was  softening — that  he  was 
beginning  to  care  for  me.  I  thought  I  should  like  to 
know  what  it  felt  like  to  be  loved  by  such  a  man.  I 
wanted — this  is  all  I  have  got  to  put  forward  in  extenua- 
tion here — I  wanted  to  be  made  to  care  for  him  ;  to  be 
strung  up  to  some  heroic  endeavour,  even  to  renunciation. 
I  knew  that  was  what  love  must  mean — for  me.  I  was 
never  a  wicked  woman  in  that  sense." 

"  You  need  not  tell  me  that ! "  he  exclaimed  hoarsely. 

"  Well,  I  told  myself  that  a  real  affection,  a  real  interest, 
would  be  my  salvation.  I  wanted  to  believe  in  his  aims 
and  to  help  him  in  them — to  do  some  work  and,  anyhow, 
devote  some  of  my  superfluous  cash  to  the  relief  of  those 

wretched,  starving  creatures- You  remember  that 

strike  winter?  But  when  I  saw  that  he  was  fighting 
against  iny  influence,  steeling  himself  and  keeping  away 
from  me,  the  devil  took  me  in  possession  and  I  longed  to 
win  the  battle.  I  determined  that  I  would  conquer  and 
that  he  should  own  himself  beaten.  That  was  just  before 
we  took  Felmarshes." 

Blanchard  bowed  his  head. 

"  Well — you  know — I  heard  you  preach.  I  saw  your 
face  so  worn  and  so  *  lifted ' — I  don't  know  how  to  ex- 
press it.  You've  lost  that  look  a  good  deal.  It  moved 
me  ;  it  was  a  Savonarola  look.  I  got  that  sort  of  feeling 
about  you,  that  you  would  be  the  person  to  go  to  in  trouble. 
And  then  you  came  and  dined  with  us.  We  had  a  lot  of 
people,  do  you  remember? — the  racing  set.  I  was  so 
ashamed  of  them.  And  we  went  to  the  Manor.  And  then 
there  was  the  fever  in  the  village,  and  you  seemed  to 
want  to  fling  away  your  life  in  looking  after  the  poor 
people.  Do  you  remember  that  autumn  ?  " 

"  Don't  let  us  speak  of  it,"  he  replied  with  emotion.  "  I 
remember  it  all  too  well.  I  remember  vour  wonderful 


GLADYS  PLEADS.  251 

courage  during  that  fever  time — your  generosity  and  de- 
votion, and  how  you  seemed  to  be  trying  to  show  me  tliat 
under  the  frivolous  mask,  and  amid  all  tlie  luxury  and 
thoughtless  selfishness  of  life  in  that  palace  on  the  hill,  there 
was  tlie  stuff  of  which  ideals  are  made.  I  was  wrong  in 
saying  that  it  was  entirely  Ironside  who  influenced  rue  at 
that  crisis  in  my  life.  You  influenced  me  greatly,  too. 
Your  words  and  ways,  and  the  trust  you  placed  in  me,  un- 
deserved as  it  was,  forced  me  to  be  true  to  the  highest 
standard  I  knew,  that  of  sincerity." 

"  And  you  preached  that  sermon — that  wonderful  ser- 
mon which  was  like  a  bomb  in  the  peaceful  household. 
And  you  gave  up  everything,  and  were  banished  from  your 
inheritance,  and  went  to  work  among  the  dockers  in 
London.  I  have  kept  all  the  letters  you  wrote  me  then — 
all  that  I  ever  had  from  you." 

He  was  visibly  moved. 

"  I  used  to  think,"  she  went  on  in  a  childlike  way,  "that 
you  were  to  me  something  of  what  Daniel  Deronda  was  to 
Gwendolen." 

"  Oh,  do  not  say  that !  "  he  cried. 

"  It  is  true.     I  leaned  on  you  in  the  same  way." 

"  I  was  not  in  the  very  least  a  Daniel  Deronda." 

"Oh,  j'ou  always  said  the  conventional  thing  about  him 
— that  he  was  a  woman's  hero,  and  not  flesh  and  blood. 
Perhaps  that  is  true,  but  it  did  not  alter  Gwendolen's  feel- 
ing. If  Daniel  had  had  reason  to  believe  Gwendolen 
insincere  in  her  professions  toward  him,  and  utterly  un- 
worthy in  every  way,  no  doubt  he  would  have  acted  like  a 
man's  man,  a  flesh  and  blood  person,  and  he  would  have 
run  away  in  anger  and  disgust,  and  have  left  her  to  her 
fate,  even  if  there  had  been  no  Myra.  in  the  case." 

"  There  was  no  Myra  in  the  case,"  said  the  young  man 
in  a  stifled  voice. 

"  No,  there  was  only  John  Ironside.  And  when  you 
found  out  that  your  Gwendolen  had  said  the  same  things 
17 


252  MRS.   TREGASKISS. 

to  John  Ironside,  almost,  as  to  you  ;  had  appealed  to 
him  to  teach  her,  in  quite  a  different  way — but  you  would 
not  have  known  that  ;  you  would  have  thought  it  all  just 
the  same,  all  part  of  the  play,  when  you  found  out  that 
she  had  worked  for  him  among  the  London  poor,  as  I  did 
for  you  among  the  poor  near  Felmarshes,  and  all  the  time 
only  as  a  reason  for  getting  into  touch  with  you,  only  as 
the  lure  of  a  coquette,  onty  to  lead  up  to  the  thrill  of  a 
dramatic  situation!  'Frightfully  thrilling,  you  know,' 
Hilda  Wangel  would  say  !  But,  I  forgot,  you  left  England 
before  Ibsen  became  the  fashion.  Oh,  well !  it  was  no 
wonder  you  thought " 

"  That  she  was  preparing  the  same  fate  for  me." 

"  With  all  the  same  art  and  the  same  guile.  Oh,  yes, 
you  might  have  said  to  yourself  :  '  One  fine  day,  when  the 
play  begins  to  get  wearisome,  this  double-faced  wretch 
will  throw  off  her  mask,  and  I  shall  see  her  as  she  is  in  her 
abominable  selfishness  and  callous  greed  of  power,  just  as 
he  saw  her  at  the  last.'  You  might  very  well  have  expected 
to  find  that  she  had  only  been  amusing  herself,  playing  a 
sort  of  game  of  chess  with  your  sanctities,  which  she  had 
talked  so  finely  about,  just  to  make  you  believe  her  a 
simple,  innocent  creature;  and  then  when  she  had  check- 
mated you,  and  the  battle  held  no  more  interest,  sweep- 
ing them  off  the  board  and  bidding  you  go  about  your 
business,  and  leave  her  to  find  a  new  amusement.  Oh, 
how  you  would  despise  her  !  How  you  would  hate 
her  ! " 

"  No,  never  that !  "  he  interrupted. 

"And  how  you  would  glory  in  hurting  her — as  it  was  in 
your  power  alone  to  hurt  her — with  your  silent  contempt  ! 
When  she  had  humiliated  herself,  thrown  herself  at  your 
feet " 

Gladys'  voice  was  choked.  She  threw  her  arms  over  the 
back  of  the  seat  and  buried  her  face  in  them;  he  could  see 
that  she  shook  with  inward  sobs. 


GLADYS  PLEADS.  253 

"  Not  to  hurt  her,"  he  said,  deeply  troubled  ;  "  but  to 
save  myself." 

"  You  did  not  give  me  credit  for  any  human  feeling," 
she  went  on  presently,  lifting  her  head,  but  not  looking  at 
him.  "  Did  you  think  me  such  an  unnatural  monster  that 
I  could  bear  to  know  myself  the  cause  of  a  man  killing 
himself,  and  not  die  almost  myself  with  shame  and  horror 
and  remorse?  You  don't  know  how  I  suffered  !  Oh,  you 
don't  know  how  I  suffered  !  " 

"  I  can  believe  it — now." 

"If  you  had  only  answered  my  letter — if  you  had  come 
to  see  me  just  once  again,  I  would  have  told  you."  She 
spoke  very  low,  and  her  words  fell  brokenly.  "  It  was  you 
who  opened  my  eyes — at  Felrnarsb.es;  you.  made  me  want  to 
be  good,  to  strive  after  the  highest — affection.  It  wasn't 
that  kind  of  feeling  he  had  for  me.  He  let  himself  go  mad, 
I  think.  One  idea  possessed  him.  He  was  the  sort  of  strong 
man,  who,  when  he  gives  way,  does  so  utterly,  allows  him- 
self to  be  absorbed,  overwhelmed,  by  one  desire.  And 

when  he  can't  gratify  it Don't  you  understand?  How 

could  I  foresee  that  he  would  want — that.  He  would  have 
had  me  give  up  everything  for  him,  altogether  ?  He 
would  not  believe  that  I  had  never  cared  for  him — in  that 
way.  No,  never,  never  for  one  instant.  Then  I  got  reck- 
less, too,  and  I  told  him  just  how  it  had  been — and  my  bad- 
ness, and  how  I  had  purposely,  at  the  end,  led  him  on. 

And  then  how  knowing  you  had  made  me  realise I 

said  that  I  would  do  all  I  could  to  blot  the  remembrance 
of  him  out  of  my  life.  Then  he  said  things — about  you. 

He It  drove  him  wild.  He  said  he  would  kill  you — 

or  himself.  And  the  next  I  heard  was  that  he  was  dead. 
And  I  tried  to  make  you  know,  and  you  would  not " 

"Ah!"  Blanchard  cried,  "I  understand!  There  was 
something  that  was  always  a  mystery,  something  between 
him  and  me,  the  night  he  shot  himself.  I  know'now." 

Gladys  got  up  and  stood  before  him. 


254  MRS.   TREGASKISS. 

"  I  have  told  you,  and  I  have  nothing  more  to  say.  I 
came  all  the  way  to  say  this — all  the  way  to  Australia. 
Try  not — not  to  think — so  hardly " 

Her  words  seemed  to  melt  into  a  sob.  She  turned 
swiftly,  and  was  some  paces  from  him  before  he  spoke. 

"  Gladys  ! "  he  called,  but  she  would  not  turn  back, 
and  he  saw  her  white  form  vanishing  like  a  ghost  behind 
the  orange  trees. 


CHAPTER  XXI. 

THE   FIRE. 

TEEGASKISS  was  sleeping  the  heavy  sleep  of  the  ine- 
briate. He  had  finished  up  the  evening,  without  the  re- 
straining influence  of  ladies'  society,  at  the  bachelors' 
quarters  ;  had  come  late  to  his  room,  and  had  thrown 
himself,  only  half  undressed,  on  the  bed  outside  the  cover- 
lid, beside  his  sleeping  wife.  The  long  journey  in  the 
heat,  and  physical  fatigue,  had  made  Clare  drowsy.  When 
she  awoke,  toward  the  small  hours,  it  was  to  the  sound  of 
the  baby's  wail,  and  to  that  of  her  husband's  stertorous 
and  fume-laden  breathing.  She  had  been  dreaming  a  most 
poetic  and  tender  dream,  in  which  she  and  Geneste  were 
wandering  together  by  the  banks  of  a  broad,  blue  lake, 
which  she  imagined  to  be  Lake  Eungella,  with  heavenly 
moonlight  streaming  down  upon  the  waters  and  a  gentle 
wind  ruffling  its  surface  into  tiny  waves,  which  threw  back 
opaline  rays  from  their  crests  of  foam.  It  was  some 
moments  before  she  could  convince  herself  which  was 
dream,  which  reality.  She  drew  the  baby  to  her  side, 
hushed  and  fed  it  from  the  bottle  placed  in  readiness,  and 
presently  it  went  to  sleep  again. 

The  night  was  very  warm.  She  was  drowsy  still,  but 
the  inert  form  beside  her  brought  nightmare  thoughts. 
Her  observations  of  tho  evening  evoked  suggestions  of 
possible  freedom,  at  which  she  recoiled,  and  which,  merci- 
fully, were  only  suggestions,  never  taking  the  form  of  defin- 
ite desire.  How  could  she  wish  for  that  which,  while  both 
lived,  was  only  to  be  gained  through  wrong-doing.  The 
ghastly  doubt  presented  itself  :  Was  it,  in  truth,  sin  to 

255 


256  MRS.  TREGASKISS. 

obey  nature's  ordinance,  whether  in  the  higher  or  lower 
scale  of  being — the  ordinance  that  bade  the  birds  of  the 
air  choose  their  mates,  and,  till  the  offspring  were  fledged, 
at  least,  be  faithful  to  them  ?  Their  offspring  !  Here  lay 
the  human  responsibility.  Clare  touched  the  little  soft, 
sleeping  thing  beside  her,  and  wondered  at  the  curious, 
impersonal  sort  of  feeling  she  had  for  it,  and  wondered, 
too,  if  she  would  have  felt  differently  had  it  been  the 
child  of  the  man  she  loved. 

She  got  up  and  put  on  her  dressing-gown  and  slippers, 
and  then  lay  down  on  the  sofa  before  the  open  window, 
gazing  out  into  the  velvetty  dimness.  The  sky  was  very 
dark.  Clouds,  those  ineffectual  storm-clouds,  had  ob- 
scured the  stars,  and  the  darkness  seemed  full  of  curious 
noises  :  rustlings,  stealthy  creepings,  insect  murmurings, 
distant  cries  of  curlews  and  native  dogs — sounds  that  only 
intensified  the  loneliness  of  the  summer  night.  Those 
same  thoughts  which  had  visited  Clare  as  she  had  lain 
awake  at  Cedar  Hill,  waiting  for  her  husband's  coming, 
came  to  her  now.  In  her  mind's  eye  she  seemed  again  to 
see  written  in  everything  nature's  law  of  dual  oneness, 
and  in  horrid  mockery  of  the  eternal  pattern,  modern 
man's  law  of  marriage,  the  copy  and  the  antithesis  of  it. 
Why  should  it  be  a  necessity  of  evolution,  the  antago- 
nism between  nature  and  man?  What  was  the  good  of 
revelation  and  theology  and  the  so-called  higher  progress, 
if  it  only  brought  about  this  fundamental  discord,  upset- 
ting the  whole  order  and  balance  of  the  social  universe, 
which  had  need  but  be  in  harmony  with  nature  for  the 
worst  kind  of  pain  to  be  done  away  with  ?  What  was 
the  meaning,  what  the  purpose,  of  so  much  useless  suf- 
fering ?  Did  the  generality  of  people  suffer  in  the  same 
manner,  or  was  it  that  there  were  certain  temperaments 
originally  planned  in  harmony  with  the  great  cosmic 
chords,  to  whom  dissonance  was  sheer  spiritual  agony  ? 

Clare  Tregaskiss'  poor,  tormented  soul,  torn  with  love 


THE  FIRE.  257 

and  longing  and  the  upbraidings  of  conscience,  groped  help- 
lessly in  a  maze  of  those  mysteries  which,  from  the  time 
that  the  Sphinx  propounded  her  question,  have  been  left 
unsolved.  Had  she  realised  that  the  capacity  to  feel  such 
pain,  susceptibility  to  such  discord,  are  the  first  dawnings 
on  the  soul  of  a  higher  existence,  it  is  doubtful  whether 
she  would  have  been  greatly  consoled  ;  for  the  doctrine 
that  to  love  most  is  to  suffer  keenest,  and  that  to  suffer 
most  keenly  is  to  be  liberated  soonest  from  the  thrall  of 
fleshly  affections,  does  not  appeal  to  the  poor  human  in  his 
first  stage  of  regeneration.  The  thrall  is  dear,  the  throb 
of  passion  sweet,  and  love,  the  divine,  has  its  feet  on 
earth,  though  its  head  be  in  heaven.  The  conflict  be- 
tween soul  and  sense  has  ever  furnished  forth  the  battle- 
ground in  which  saints  have  been  worsted  and  heroes 
overcome,  and  the  cup  of  renunciation,  offered  though  it 
be  by  ministering  angels,  has  ever  been  the  most  unwel- 
come to  the  thirsty  heart. 

Clare  did  not  know  how  long  she  stayed  on  the  sofa  ; 
she  must  have  fallen  asleep,  or  if  not,  fancied  that  she  had 
done  so  while  her  eyes  drooped,  for  when  she  looked  out 
again  the  night  showed  a  feeble  glow — a  glimmer  touching 
the  near  trees  that  made  her  think  it  must  be  close  on 
sunrise.  The  glow  deepened,  more  quickly  and  less 
steadily  than  that  of  daybreak  ;  the  shiny  leaves  of  the 
orange  trees  seemed  to  quiver  in  it,  and  the  tall  feathers  of 
the  bamboos  to  stand  out  illuminated  as  in  a  transforma- 
tion scene.  Then  Clare  became  alive  to  a  curious"  faint 
roaring  as  of  wind  rushing  afar.  Could  it  be  a  cyclone? 
One  heard  it  a  long  way  off.  But  there  was  not  that  strange 
brooding,  and  the  feeling  as  of  a  world's  breath  drawn 
inward,  which  heralds  such  a  storm.  But  yet  she  fancied 
it  had  grown  hotter,  and  she  fancied,  too,  that  she  smelt 
smoke,  like  that  of  twigs  burning. 

Suddenly  there  was  a  startled  clang,  the  big  bell  of  the 
workings  crashing  through  the  stillness  of  the  night.  Then 


258  MRS.   TREGASKISS. 

came  shouts,  at  first  indistinct  from  distance,  then  caught 
up  nearer,  and  now  sounding  close  in  the  garden  and 
verandas. 

"  Fire  !     Fire  !     The  house  is  on  fire  ! " 

Mrs.  Tregaskiss  darted  from  the  sofa  to  the  open  French 
windows  and  looked  out.  White  figures  were  already  rush- 
ing from  the  house  ;  a  tongue  of  fiame  leaped  through  the 
casement  of  a  room  at  the  end  of  the  wing  just  beyond  her 
own;  she  could  hear  the  crackling  and  sputtering  of  the 
woodwork.  There  were  frantic  calls  coming  from  differ- 
ent directions.  Mr.  Cusnck  in  pajamas  ran  down  the 
veranda  calling  wildly  for  "  Men  !  Where  were  the  men  ! 
Somebody  go  and  call  up  the  men  !  "  Present!}'  came  the 
tramp  of  the  specials,  and  of  the  gentlemen  who  slept  at 
the  bachelors'  quarters,  the  house  being  given  tip  to  the 
Cusack  family  and  their  married  and  lady  visitors. 

Clare  ran  back  to  her  room  and  seized  the  baby  from  its 
cot.  Tregaskiss  slept  on;  she  shook  and  called  him. 

"Keith,  get  up  !  Keith,  the  house  is  on  fire  !  "  but  to  no 
purpose.  Then  as  she  was  seizing  a  heavy  jug  of  bath 
water  to  pour  it  upon  him,  a  hand  interposed  and  Geneste's 
voice  said  collectedly  : 

"I  will  get  him  up.  Don't  be  frightened.  You've  got 
baby.  Just  collect  some  of  your  things ;  the  fire  has 
started  close  here.  There's  no  clanger  at  all,  but  I  want  to 
get  you  quietly  to  the  garden.  Where  is  King?" 

"  Niug  !  "  Clare  had  almost  forgotten  the  child,  who  had 
been  put  with  Gladys  in  a  room  in  the  main  body  of  the 
house.  She  ran  along  the  veranda,  the  infant  in  her  arms, 
meeting,  as  she  went,  white-clad  figures  with  terrified  faces, 
too  intent  upon  themselves  to  take  any  notice  of  her.  Mrs. 
Cusack,  keeping  her  self-possession,  was  directing  the 
removal  of  furniture,  and  with  her  own  hands  dragged  out 
heavy  cabinets  and  chests  of  drawers.  Helen,  very  pale, 
young  Gillespie  helping  her,  passed  in  and  out  with  bundles 
of  books,  pictures,  and  clothes  ;  Miss  Lawford,  shrieking 


THE  FIRE.  259 

hysterically,  rushed  hither  and  thither,  till  Mrs.  Cnsack 
stern  1 3'  bade  her  not  make  a  fool  of  herself,  but  give  a  hand 
in  the  work.  Mr.  Cusack,  like  most  cowards,  losing  his 
head,  roared  contradictory  orders  to  the  band  engaged  in 
handing  up  buckets  of  water,  and  in  plying  the  hose  laid 
from  the  lagoon  to  which  the  Brinda  Plains  garden  owed 
its  beauty.  Clare  gave  quick  glances  at  each  group  and 
person,  but  there  was  no  Gladys,  no  sign  of  Ning.  Her 
heart  began  to  grow  sick  for  the  child.  Just  then  a 
shower  of  sparks  rose  from  the  back  roof  of  the  main 
building,  showing  that  the  fire  must  have  broken  out  in 
two  places. 

"  Oli,  Mrs.  Tregaskiss,  its  awful !  "  ejaculated  the  mis- 
tress scarcely  pausing  in  her  labour.  "Those  dreadful 

unionists Ning  !  She's  with  Mrs.  Hilditch — the 

spare  room  at  the  end." 

Clare's  speed  quickened  at  the  information.  The  fire 
was  gaining  at  the  very  spot  Mrs.  Cusack,  with  a  hurried 
jerk  of  her  head,  had  indicated.  Clare  turned  an  agonised 
face  as  she  ran.  "  They  are  nowhere  about.  They  must 
be  in  there.  Oh,  won't  someone  come  and  help  me  !"  she 
cried.  Steps  hurried  at  her  call.  Blanchard,  who  had  been 
in  the  string  of  specials  with  buckets,  broke  away  at  sight 
of  Mrs.  Cusack's  gesture.  He  looked  very  white  and  deter- 
mined, and  all  the  time  that  he  had  been  passing  buckets 
his  eyes  were  watching  for  Glad3rs,  and  he  could  not  have 
waited  a  moment  longer  without  assuring  himself  that  she 
was  in  safety.  He  snatched  up  a  'possum  rug. 

"  I  know  the  room,"  he  said.     "  I'm  coming." 

"She  always  locks  her  door,"  Clare  panted. 

"  Gladys You  must  break  it  in.  Oh,  make  haste  ! 

It's  Ning,  my  Ning  !  " 

"  Put  the  baby  down,"  cried  Blanchnrd,  pressing  forward, 
"you  may  want  your  hands.  But  don't  come  in  unless  I 
call.  They're  safe,  Mrs.  Tregnskiss  ;  the  fire  hasn't  got 
there  yet.  Gladys  will  be  safe." 


260  MRS.   TREGASKIS3. 

He  said  the  last  words  definitely,  as  though  lie  took  to 
himself  in  that  moment  the  right  in  all  that  concerned 
Gladys,  and  wished  to  announce  it  to  the  whole  world. 
Nevertheless,  smoke  was  coining  out  of  the  crevices  of  the 
French  window,  closed  tightly.  Gladys  had  a  foolish 
terror  of  the  wide-open  doors  and  windows  of  the  bush. 
She  was  not  afraid  of  burglars  or  black  fellows,  but  of 
snakes,  and  so  she  always  shut  eveiything  that  gave  on  the 
ground.  Blanchard  dashed  himself  against  a  window. 
There  was  a  shivering  of  glass,  a  shattering  of  woodwork, 
and  a  little  figure  in  a  white  nightgown,  holding  a  black 
doll  to  its  breast,  darted  out  of  the  smoke  and  clutched  at 
Clare's  skirt. 

"Oh,  mummy,  mine  plenty  frightened!  Mine  think  it 
debil-debil  come  along  a  big  fire.  Mine  call  out  plenty 
loud.  Ba'al  any  good.  Gladys  altogether  asleep." 

Clare  gathered  the  small  creature  to  her  bosom.  "  Oh, 
Ning,  my  Ning  !  "  she  cried,  balf  sobbing.  The  mother 
instinct,  roused  to  a  fierceness  which  she  could  hardly  have 
believed  possible,  vindicated  nature  in  having  made  her  a 
woman.  She  felt  an  agony  of  tenderness  and  of  remorse 
for  the  black  thoughts  which  had  haunted  her  morbid 
hours.  The  emotion  so  filled  her,  that  with  Ning  in  her 
arms  she  forgot  for  an  instant  that  Gladys  was  in  danger. 

Only  for  an  instant.  She  put  the  child  away,  bidding 
her  take  care  of  baby  over  there  on  the  grass,  and  leaped 
into  the  stifling  smoke,  to  be  confronted  by  Blanchard 
bearing  Gladys'  inanimate  form  from  which  the  opossum 
rug  trailed. 

"  Go  back,"  he  said  ;  "  it's  all  right,  but  the  curtains 
were  catching.  She  is  not  burned,  but  she  must  have  air — 
and  water,  please,  from  somewhere." 

Clare  flew  again.  When  she  came  back  with  water  from 
one  of  the  bedrooms,  Geneste  had  joined  her,  and  Tregas- 
kiss  behind  him,  wakened  and  sobered  into  complete  pos- 
session of  his  senses,  was  calling  frantically  :  "  Picka- 


THE  FIRE.  281 

ninny  !  Pickaninny  !  Ob,  where's  daddy's  Pickaninny  ! 
Oh  !  "—at  sight  of  the  child—"  thank  God  she's  all 
right!" 

He  carried  off  Ning,  lifting  up  the  baby  also,  which  was 
crowing  with  glee  at  the  sight  of  the  flames.  Clare  saw 
him,  with  the  two  children,  moving  away,  all  three  rejoicing, 
and  a  sudden  revulsion  of  feeling  seized  her — a  terrified  sense 
of  incongruity  and  unnaturalness  and  an  immense  desolation. 
She  stood,  as  it  were,  the  outcast  thrust  out  by  her  wrongful 
love  from  the  family  bond  ;  her  maternal  impulse  recoiling 
upon  herself  and  reacting  in  passionate  revolt  from  ties 
which  divided  her  very  being  against  itself.  And  here  by 
her  side  was  the  man  she  loved,  gazing  at  her  with  a  fervid 
yearning  which  would  no  longer  be  kept  within  the  re- 
straints she  had  imposed.  All  her  resolve,  her  heroism  of 
reserve,  melted  and  vanished  in  the  wild  confusion  of 
advancing  flames,  and  of  the  alarm  and  excitement  that 
surrounded  them.  They  two  seemed  to  stand  alone,  their 
world  unharmed,  while  the  conventional  world  was  being  de- 
stroyed before  their  eyes.  A  rafter  fell,  scattering  burning 
fragments  almost  at  their  feet.  He  flung  his  arm  about  her 
and  half  dragged,  half  carried  her  across  the  tennis  ground 
to  a  vine  trellis  some  little  distance  off.  Just  then  the  bell 
at  the  workings  again  clanged  out ;  there  were  hoarse 
shouts  ;  another  shaft  of  light  shooting  up  down  below  the 
lagoon,  and  a  cry  repeated  among  the  specials  at  the  pumps  : 
"  The  woolshed,  the  woolshed  !  By that's  fired  too  ! " 

Clare  clung  to  Geneste,  trembling  and  sobbing,  physi- 
cally unnerved.  She  began  to  shiver,  though  the  air  was 
like  the  blast  of  a  furnace,  and  he  held  her  close,  soothing 
her  and  warming  her  with  his  kisses. 

"  My  dear,  my  darling  !     My  poor,  poor  Clare  !  " 


CHAPTER  XXII. 

""WE   UNDERSTAND   EACH    OTHER." 

IT  was  a  strange  scene,  that  upon  which  the  sun  rose  on 
the  morning  after  the  fire.  The  house  was  a  wreck,  the 
garden  down-trampled  and  strewn  with  furniture,  piles  of 
bedding,  and  all  kinds  of  miscellaneous  properties  ;  noth- 
ing remained  of  the  woolshed  but  a  blackened  patch  of 
ground  and  some  heaps  of  ashes  and  charred  timbers. 
Fortunately  the  night  had  been  very  still,  and  the  build- 
ings fairly  isolated,  so  that  the  flames  had  not  spread. 
Grimy  and  exhausted,  the  men  dispersed  at  last  to  bathe  in 
the  water-hole  and  change  their  singed  garments.  The 
ladies  had  gone  in  the  very  early  hours  to  the  storekeeper's 
and  overseer's  cottages,  where  they  lay  down  on  sofas 
and  spare  beds,  and  by  and  by  dressed  and  had  some  tea. 
Later  on,  though  it  was  early  still,  when  the}7  were  again  in 
the  garden  of  the  house — now  no  more — sorting  out  their 
respective  belongings,  Helen  Cusack  was  interrupted  by 
Geneste. 

"I  wanted  to  propose  a  plan  to  3*011,"  he  said.  "I  have 
been  talking  about  it  to  Mrs.  Tregaskiss.  Wh}r  should 
you  not  all  come  with  me  to  my  place  to-day  and  rest 
there  while  your  father  and  brothers  see  after  things  here, 
and  the  unionist  scare  goes  over  a  bit?  Even  if  Mrs. 
Cusack  wanted  to  remain, — and  she  says  she  must  be  on 
the  spot, — why  should  not  you  come  along  with  the  Tregas- 
kiss'  and  Mrs.  Hild itch." 

"No,  no!"  she  exclaimed,  witli  what,  for  Helen,  was 
.almost  rude  abruptness  ;  "I  should  prefer  to  stay  with  my 
mother." 

263 


"WE   UNDERSTAND  EACH   OTHER."  263 

"  You  have  often  promised  to  come,"  he  urged  ;  "  and 
you  can  do  no  good  here.  This  seems  such  a  good  oppor- 
tunity. It  would  be  such  a  pleasure  to  have  you  for  my 
visitor." 

"  No  ;  I  should  hate  it !  "  she  said,  in  the  same  jerky  tone. 
"  Please  don't  ask  me." 

He  desisted  from  persuasion,  and  silently  watched  her  as 
she  gathered  some  books  together  and  tied  them  into  a 
bundle.  But  when  she  tried  to  lift  the  bundle,  her  hands 
trembled  so  that  the  books  fell,  scattered.  He  picked  them 
up  and  took  the  bundle  from  her  ;  and,  as  she  thanked  him, 
she  lifted  her  face  for  the  first  time.  She  looked  so  worn 
and  upset  that  he  was  genuinely  concerned.  He  insisted 
upon  her  drinking  some  port  wine  which  Mrs.  Cusack  had 
given  him  to  administer  to  the  ladies,  then  upon  her  going 
with  him  out  of  the  steamy  sun,  and  took  her  to  the  shelter 
of  that  very  trellis  which  had  been  the  scene  of  his  own  and 
Clare's  fall  from  their  stronghold  of  reserve. 

Helen  shrank  visibly,  pausing  at  the  entrance.  "  Oh,  no, 
not  there  !  "  she  said. 

He  noticed  her  shrinking  and  the  slight  shudder  with 
which  she  turned  away,  noticed  also  that  she  reddened 
painfully  when  she  spoke  to  him,  and  that  she  avoided 
meeting  his  eyes,  as  though  there  were  some  painful  con- 
sciousness in  her  mind  concerning  him.  Her  manner  had 
been  a  little  strange  of  late,  distant  and  embarrassed  ;  and 
this,  the  evening  before,  had  been  more  noticeable  than 
usual.  A  thought  flashed  across  him.  Was  it  possible 
that  she  had  witnessed  that  reckless  exhibition  of  feeling 
in  the  arbour?  If  so,  he  could  not  be  surprised  that  her 
maidenly  instinct  of  propriety  had  been  outraged,  as  well  as 
a  sentiment  dearer  still. 

"Why  do  you  not  want  to  go  in  there?"  he  asked. 

She  did  not  answer,  but  moved  instead  to  another 
creeper-covered  summer-house  overlooking  the  tennis  court, 
a  spot  where  they  often  had  tea. 


264  MRS.  TREGASKISS. 

"Why?"  he  persisted. 

"I  don't  know.  I  can't  tell  you.  I  wasn't  thinking  of 
what  I  was  doing."  Her  voice,  was  so  full  of  trouble,  her 
confusion  and  repugnance  were  so  evident,  that  his  suspi- 
cion was  confirmed.  "Please  don't  trouble  about  me,"  she 
went  on  ;  "I  am  quite  well.  Please  go  and  look  after  the 
others." 

"Not  till  I  have  cleared  up  something  with  you  first.  I 
think  I  know  what  you  are  thinking.  Helen,"  he  said  very 
gently,  "  we  have  been  such  good  friends,  and  we  decided 
to  be  always  the  friends,  didn't  we,  that  we  were?  Yet 
you  seem  to  me  to  have  avoided  speaking  to  me,  as  if  you 
disapproved  of  me,  these  last  few  times  that  we  have  met ; 
and  now  your  manner  makes  me  fancy,  somehow,  that  I 
have  done  something  quite  lately  to  lower  me  still  more  in 
your  esteem.  Tell  rne,  frankly,  if  this  is  so." 

"  Yes,"  she  answered  boldly,  her  face  crimsoning  again, 
and  then  getting  very  pale.  Presently  she  cried  impetu- 
ously :  "  It's  because  we  have  been  such  friends.  Only — it 
is  not  a  thing  for  me  to  speak  about.  But  I  can't  see  and 
hear  things — though  it's  without  intention,  and  not — 
not " 

"I  understand,"  he  interrupted  quietly.  "Last  night  I 
was  betrayed  into  the  expression  of — a  feeling  which  I — 
to  which  I  had  been  forbidden  to  give  utterance.  And  you 
became  aware  of — that  feeling," 

"  Forbidden  !  "  she  exclaimed. 

"Mine  was  the  fault  entirely — from  the  very  first.  She 
is  the  very  best,  truest,  most  loyal  woman  ;  she  has  been 
sorely  tried.  Do  you  not  believe  this  ?  " 

"  Of  course  I  believe  that  she  is  good.  I  am  very  sorry 
for  her.  But  it's  so  terrible  to — to  love  a  woman  who  is 
married." 

"  Yes,"  he  assented  sadly  ;  "it  is  very  terrible — especially 
when  her  marriage  is  a  miserable  one,  for  then  it  is  so  hard 
to  keep  silence.  I  am  to  blame.  I  ought  to  have  obeyed 


"WE   UNDERSTAND  EACH   OTHER."  265 

her  solemn  command.  But  the  circumstances,  the  fire, 
the  confusion,  are  my  excuse.  A  man's  emotions  are  not 
always  under  his  control."  Helen's  lip  curled  slightly. 
"  Oh,  yes  !  I  know  what  you  are  thinking.  If  I  had  not 

been I  have  no  excuse  ;  you  are  quite  right.  But,  oh, 

Helen,  do  you  remember  something  you  said  to  me  that 
first  night  Mrs.  Tregaskiss  and  I  were  here  together?" 

"  I  remember — several  things.  But  there  is  no  use  in  our 
reminding  each  other  of  that  night." 

"I  want  to  remind  you  of  one  thing  in  especial,  however. 
Please  let  me.  You  asked  me,  then,  to  promise  you  that  I 
would  tell  you  if  ever  there  should  be  a  Guinevere.  And 
you  said, — I  have  thought  of  your  words  many  times, 
dear  Helen,  dear  sister  Helen,  who  is  only  less  dear  to  me 
than  one  woman  in  the  world, — you  said  that  in  such  a  case 
you  could  only  pray  for  us.  Pray  for  us,  then,  Helen  ;  pray 
for  her — that,  somehow,  good  may  come  into  her  life,  and 
make  it  less  bitter.  The  prayer  of  a  pure,  true  woman  for 
another  woman,  in  need  of  comfort,  should  be  a  force  in  the 
spiritual  region  of  things." 

The  vibration  of  deep  feeling  in  his  voice  moved  her 
intensely,  and  in  a  strange  and  sudden  way  changed  her 
moral  attitude  toward  him.  A  moment  before  she  had 
despised  him.  He  was  but  a  sorry  hero.  Helen  was  clear- 
sighted, in  spite  of  the  romantic  infatuation  with  which 
Geneste  had  inspired  her.  At  this  moment  there  seemed 
to  her  almost  pathos  in  his  want  of  self-control.  But 
women  have  a  knack  of  loving  most  the  men  who,  under 
certain  emotional  conditions,  prove  themselves  to  be  poor 
creatures.  They  have  a  grand  power,  too,  of  reconstruct- 
ing their  ideal  in  accordance  with  masculine  weakness  and 
perversity. 

She  looked  straight  into  his  eyes  ;  it  was  her  tribute  to 
his  sincerity  and  to  a  certain  right  of  intention  in  which 
she  intended  to  believe.  So,  at  any  rate,  he  interpreted 
the  look. 


266  MRS.    TREGASKISS. 

"  Thank  you,"  he  said  humbly. 

"  What  do  you  wish  me  to  pray  for  ? "  she  asked. 
"  Wliat  can  I  pray  for  that  would  be  for  her  good,  unless 
it  be  that  you  may  leave  her  and  that  she  may  be  delivered 
from  an  affection  that  is  wrong?" 

"  Have  you  no  faith  in  a  loyal  love- friendship  ?  Do  you 
not  trust  me  ?  " 

"  Oh,  I  don't  know  !  How  can  I  tell  ?  Yes,  I  trust  you. 
I  don't  feel  as  I  did  a  little  while  ago  ;  it  was  so  dreadful, 
thinking  it  over  alone,  and  all  in  the  dark.  But  how  can 
I  tell  ?  Dr.  Geneste,  you  ask  too  hard  things  of  me." 

"I  will  ask  of  you  nothing,  then,  except  only  that  you 
will  try  as  much  as  you  can  to  believe  in  rne.  I  don't  ask 
you  to  believe  in  her.  It  would  be  impossible  for  you  not 
to  do  so  ;  she  has  all  nobleness  written  on  her  face.  I 
have  respected  her  wishes,  her  sense  of  duty  to  her  chil- 
dren, to  her  position,  and  have  done  my  best  to  refrain 
from  expression  of  a  feeling  that  has  grown  in  spite  of 
myself.  But  sometimes  it  is  difficult.  Last  night,  in  the 
alarm  and  in  her  natural  agitation,  I  lost  command  over 
myself.  But  that  will  never  occur  again.  And  why 
should  I  leave  her  if  I  am  strong  enough  not  to  offend  ?  No 

o  o 

one  could  blame  me  for  trying  to  give  such  help  as  I  may, 
in  her  most  unhappy  life,  such  sympathy  as  will  make  her 
feel  her  loneliness  less  keenly.  Believe  that  I  honour  and 
care  for  her  too  much  to  wish  anything  except  what  is 
best  for  her." 

He  was  conscious  himself  that  the  words  were  evasive 
of  the  issue,  though  he  meant  them  honestly  enough.  She 
accepted  them,  as  a  young,  noble-minded  girl  naturally 
would  accept  such  an  assurance,  and  put  out  her  hand 
with  a  gesture  at  once  of  appeal  and  confidence. 

"Yes,  I  will  believe  that.  And  I  will  pray  for  you,  Dr. 
Geneste,  though  I  am  not  good  or  religious,  that  my 
prayers  would  avail  anything.  Now  I  have  told  you,  I 
will  try  to  put  out  of  my  head  what  I  saw  h:st  night,  and 


"WE  UNDERSTAND  EACH  OTHER."  267 

at  first  felt  about  it.  It  was  the  shock  and  something — 
something  Miss  Lawford  once  said,  I  am  ashamed  of  my- 
self for  having  felt  as  I  did." 

"  Thank  you,"  he  said  again,  but  he  did  not  look  at  her. 

"  I  want  to  say  something  to  you,"  Helen  went  on,  in 
a  hurried  manner.  "  I  don't  wonder  at  your  caring  for  her. 
How  could  you  help  it  ;  she  is  so  far  above  everybody, 
so  different  from  the  others — so  different  from  me."  Helen 
gave  a  pathetic  little  smile.  "  It  was  just  that  at  first  it 
was  a  shock  ;  now  I  understand.  I  crept  away  and  cried — 
and  cried.  For  the  moment  it  was  like  having  one's  faith 
destroyed.  And  I  thought  of  how  you  had  once — once — ; 
kissed  me."  Helen's  voice  dropped  as  though  she  were 
touching  on  something  sacred,  and  then  there  came  a 
thrill  of  passion  into  it.  "  Dr.  Geneste,  you  oughtn't  to 
have  done  it !  You  ought  to  have  remembered  that  I  was 

not  a  child  any  longer,  and  that  I  might  mistake " 

She  broke  off  and  turned  away. 

"I  know  that  I  ought  not  to  have  done  it,"  he  answered. 
"  If  you  could  but  realise  how  the  remembrance  distresses 
and  humiliates  me — how  unworthy  I  have  felt  myself  of 
your  goodness  to  me  since.  You  remember  what  we 
talked  of — how  that  closest  of  all  feelings  can  exist  at  its 
best  only  between  a  man  and  woman  nearer  each  other  in 
age  than  you  and  I.  You  will  have  quite  a  different  feel- 
ing when  your  right  life-companion  comes  along.  And 
yet  I  can't  help  hoping  and  thinking  that  though  you  may 
have  the  very  greatest  affection  for  someone  else,  you  will 
not  have  a  less  affection  for  me.  That  will  prove  the 
truth  of  what  I  now  say." 

"  I  shall  never  at  an}r  time  have  a  less  affection  for  you," 
she  answered  steadily  ;  "  but  I  shall  never  at  any  time  have 
a  greater  affection  for  any  other  man.  Dr.  Geneste,  I 
don't  know  why  I  shouldn't  speak  out — especially  now, 
though  I  dare  say  it  would  seem  dreadful  to  most  people, 
and  they  would  be  horrified  at.  my  boldness.  I  can't  help 
18 


268  MRS.   TREGASKISS. 

it.  I  don't  seem  able  to  feel  about  what  is  true  and  real — 
as  real  as  I  myself — in  the  sort  of  way  that  is  described  in 
books,  and  that  girls  are  generally  supposed  to  feel.  I 
think  it  is  poor  and  petty  to  be  always  guarding  one's  self 
and  pretending.  I  want  you  to  know  that  you  will  always 
be  the  first  in  the  world  to  me,  and  if  the  day  should  ever 
come  in  which  you  were  to  say  to  me  :  '  Helen,  I  don't 
love  you  as  I  have  loved  another  woman,  whom  I  can't 
marry,  but  you  can  be  of  use  to  me  as  my  little  sister,  my 
companion,  my  servant — will  you  be  either  of  these  to 
me  and  give  up  your  life  for  that  and  teach  me  to  forget  ? ' 
Well," — she  made  a  movement  full  of  womanly  sweet- 
ness and  pride,  and  her  whole  face  glowed, — "I  should 
answer  that  I  would  ask  no  greater  happiness  than  to 
devote  my  life  to  being  of  service  to  you." 

As  he  looked  at  her  in  all  her  girlish  prettiness,  he  felt 
that  fate  had  indeed  been  lavish  in  her  bounty,  and  that 
were  there  no  Clare  Tregaskiss  he  might  be  well  content 
to  take  the  worship  of  this  fine,  trusting  creature,  and 
devote  the  rest  of  his  life  to  making  her  happy. 

"  Who  knows,  Helen,"  he  almost  groaned,  "  who  knows 
that  such  a  day  may  not  come,  and  then  I  shall  remind 
you  of  your  words  and  claim  their  fulfilment?" 

"Well,  we  understand  each  other,"  she  answered  simply. 
"  I  am  not  afraid  because  I've  put  myself  in  the  wrong 
position  and  made  myself  into  a  sort  of  door-mat  for  you 
to  walk  on.  I  suppose  that's  my  only  way  of  caring — 
though  it  may  be  rather  a  contemptible  one." 

"My  dear!"  he  cried  ;  "it's  a  sublime  way  of  caring, 
and  it's  just  what  makes  me  know  that  you'll  care  differ- 
ently some  day." 

"  Oh,  well,  we  won't  argue  about  that  ;  it  doesn't 
matter.  There's  only  one  thing  I  wouldn't  do  for  you  ; 
and  that  is  something  that  I  knew  to  be  wrong.  No,  I'm 
not  a  bit  ashamed  of  myself.  It's  all  quite  beyond  that 
kind  of  consideration.  And  then  I  know  you  understand. 


"WE  UNDERSTAND  EACH   OTHER."  269 

No  one  but  you  could  understand — and  Mrs.  Tregaskiss. 
I  dare  say  she  would  know  how  I  feel." 

"  Yes  ;  she  would  know." 

"  You  may  tell  her,  if  you  please,  all  that  I  have  said  to 
you.  I  shouldn't  mind.  It  might  make  her  more — per- 
haps more  contented  with  her  lot.  Sometimes  I  think  that 
I  shall  tell  her  myself,  but  she  always  seems  so  far  away, 
and  so  cold." 

"  She  is  not  cold  ;  she  is  only  unhappy." 

"  I  know  that.  Dr.  Geneste,  tell  me,  did  you  have  a 
longing  to  tear  off  that  still,  smooth  marble  covering,  and 
get  at  the  real  woman  who  was  bleeding  underneath  ? 
Was  it  that  which  made  you  care  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  he  answered,  in  a  low  voice.  "  And  last  night  I 
did  see  the  bleeding  woman  ;  and  my  heart  ached  for  her, 
and  I  wanted  to  comfort  her.  Now,  do  you  understand  ?  " 

"Yes,  I  understand." 

Then  he  laughed  outright.  There  was  to  him  a  touch 
of  comicality  in  his  position  between  these  two  woman, 
who  were,  both  of  them,  he  acknowledged  to  himself,  in 
their  strength  so  immeasurably  above  him.  And  Helen's 
generosity,  her  splendid  candour,  seemed  to  lift  the  situa- 
tion into  a  sort  of  sublime  farce. 

"  Will  you  come  over  to  Darra  ? "  he  asked  abruptly. 
"  Don't,  if  you  would  rather  not.  But  I  don't  see  why 
you  should,  and  it  would  prove  at  least  that  you  believe 
in  me." 

Helen  showed  that  she  was  human,  in  that  she  winced 
again  at  the  suggestion. 

"  I  don't  know.  There's  so  much  to  do  here.  We'll  see 
what  mother  says." 

Young  Gillespie  came  upon  the  scene.  He  was  almost 
turning  back  at  the  sight  of  Dr.  Geneste  with  Helen,  but 
changed  his  mind. 

"  Miss  Cusack,  I've  been  hunting  for  you.  They  want 
you  to  come  and  choose  your  room  in  the  bachelors'  quar- 


270  MRS.   TREGASKISS. 

ters.  I've  fixed  up  the  books  and  pictures,  and  things  in 
the  one  I've  been  having  myself.  I  think  you'd  like  it ; 
there's  a  window  looking  on  the  garden  !" 

"Poor  you  !  "  said  Helen,  smiling  bravely;  "  and  where 
are  you  going  ?" 

"  Oh,  to  the  overseer's  !  No,  Geneste  has  asked  me  to 
camp  at  Darra  for  a  bit,  and  I've  accepted  his  invitation." 

"It  seems  to  me  that  we're  all  going  to  camp  at  Darra," 
said  Helen. 

"Miss  Lawford  and  Minnie  are  going,  anyhow,"  said 
Gillespie.  "  I  heard  it  settled  with  Mrs.  Cusack.  I'm  to 
drive  them  over  this  afternoon  ;  and  Tregaskiss  wants  to 
start  at  the  same  time,  so  as  to  get  the  cool  of  the  evening. 
He's  in  an  awful  fume  about  his  buggy  horses  doing  two 
long  stages  running.  He  says  going  by  the  Carmody's 
will  make  too  long  a  round." 

Geneste  had  suggested  a  slight  detour  by  way  of  the 
Carmody's,  so  that  Clare  might  pay  the  visit  they  had 
spoken  about,  and  he  himself  have  an  opportunity  of  quietly 
noting  how  poor  Mrs.  Carmody  was  getting  on. 

"  Oh,  it's  all  right  !  I  will  go  and  talk  to  him  about  it," 
said  Geneste. 

They  walked  to  what  had  once  been  the  back  entrance, 
where  Tregaskiss'  buggy  was  standing,  and  he  himself 
worrying  among  the  saddle-bags,  Gladys'  portmanteau, 
salvage  from  the  fire,  and  the  other  miscellaneous  packages. 

"  These  poor  brutes  will  be  regularly  cooked  if  I  make 
that  round,"  he  was  saying.  "  I've  sent  Shand  back  to 
Mount  Wombo,  and  shall  have  to  drive  the  buggy  myself — 
and  I'm  pretty  considerably  heavier  than  Shand.  I  don't 
know  how  I'm  going  to  manage  all  these  things,  and  Clare 
and  the  children  and  half-caste  into  the  bargain." 

"  You  need  not  take  such  a  load,"  said  Geneste  quietly. 
"  I've  got  a  spare  pack-horse,  and  my  black  boy  can  drive 
it  with  some  of  your  things.  Mrs.  Hilditch  is  riding,  and 
I  don't  see  at  all  why,  if  Mrs.  Tregaskiss  liked,  we  shouldn't 


"WE  UNDERSTAND  EACH   OTHER."  271 

carry  out  part  of  the  original  plan,  anyhow,  and  we  riders 
go  round  by  the  Carmodys'.  If  we  start  pretty  soon,  we 
shall  get  there  for  a  late  breakfast.  I'm  particularly 
anxious  to  see  Mrs.  Carmody.  I  hear  she  is  not  so  well, 
and  I  know  she  wants  to  meet  your  wife,  who  might  be  a 
comfort  to  her.  If  we  settle  it  so,  you  needn't  set  off  till 
the  afternoon  when  the  rest  go  from  here." 

The  plan  suited  Tregaskiss  very  well.  He  could  thus 
put  some  of  his  own  baggage  in  the  Brinda  Plains  buggy 
and  save  his  horses,  and,  moreover,  he  would  have  the 
opportunity  of  driving  Miss  Lavvford.  He  assented 
eagerly.  But  when  Geneste  approached  Mrs.  Hilditch 
with  the  proposal,  she  declined. 

"  Three  is  a  bad  number,  and  I  don't  know  Mrs.  Car- 
mody, and  if  she  is  sick,  she  won't  want  to  know  me.  No, 
I  think  I'll  let  you  have  Clare  to  yourself,  Dr.  Geneste,  and 
I'll  wait  till  the  afternoon." 

Gladys  was  not  herself.  She  looked  quite  worn  out, 
there  were  two  red  spots  on  her  cheeks,  though  otherwise 
she  was  very  pale,  and  her  eyes  had  an  alert,  anxious  expres- 
sion. She  was  wondering  what  had  become  of  Blanchard, 
whom  she  had  not  seen  since  his  deliverance  of  her  from 
the  burning  room.  A  sudden  shyness  kept  her  from  ask- 
ing about  him,  and  she  waited  on,  in  the  hope  that  he 
might  appear  toward  the  afternoon. 

Thus  it  happened  that,  about  nine  that  morning,  Mrs. 
Tregaskiss  and  Geneste  found  themselves  riding  alone  to 
the  Carmodys'  station. 

An  odd  little  incident  had  happened  just  before  their 
start.  Clare  was  in  the  spare  room  at  the  overseer's,  put- 
ting on  her  habit,  when  a  knock  sounded  at  the  door,  and 
Helen  Cusack  asked  if  he  might  come  in. 

"  Certainly,"  said  Mrs.  Tregaskiss. 

*   *  o 

"Mother  asked  if  you  would  mind  taking  charge  of 
these,"  Helen  said  awkwardly,  producing  a  small  packet. 
"  It's  some  Iceland  moss,  and  there's  a  bottle  of  Mr. 


272  MRS.   TREGASKISS. 

Gillespie's  tasteless  cod-liver  oil.  He  doesn't  need  them 
now,  and  mother  thought  they  might  help  Mrs.  Carmody, 
if  yon  don't  mind." 

"  Why,  of  course  not !  I  can  quite  easily  manage  a 
bigger  parcel  ;  there  are  dees  for  a  valise  on  the  off  side 
of  my  saddle." 

"I  think  that's  all,"  said  Helen.  Clare  put  on  her  hat 
and  arranged  her  veil.  "It  seems  strange,"  said  Helen 
deliberately,  but  with  a  break  in  her  voice,  "  that  we  should 
all  be  going  over  to  stay  with  Dr.  Geneste." 

"  Yes."  The  still  woman's  hand  trembled  as  she  put 
the  pin  in  her  veil.  "  You  are  going,  then  ?  " 

"  He  asked  me.  Mother  thinks  I'd  better,  as  Miss 
Lawford  is  to  be  there.  He  says  she  can  teach  the  chil- 
dren just  the  same,  and  there's  not  a  quiet  place  here.  He 
doesn't  want  us  to  come  back  till  they  are  settled  in  the 
bachelors'  quarters.  Mother  will  have  a  lot  to  do." 

"  It  is  a  good  plan,"  said  Clare.  "  I  wish  I  could  per- 
suade you  to  come  on  to  Mount  Wombo  with  us.  It 
wouldn't  be  quite  so  dull,  now  that  we  have  Mrs.  Hilditch." 

"  I  shouldn't  mind  how  dull  it  was.     I'd  like  to  come." 

"  Then  come,  my  dear,"  said  Mrs.  Tregaskiss,  turning 
round  to  her  from  the  glass. 

She  was  surprised  at  the  expression  upon  the  girl's  face. 
It  seemed  to  her  an  accusation  against  herself  of  disloy- 
alty. "  Helen  !  "  she  exclaimed,  dropping  the  gloves  and 
whip  she  had  taken  from  the  table. 

"  Mrs.  Tregaskiss,"  Helen  said  hurriedly,  "  I  want  to 
tell  you  something.  I  feel  mean  not  to  tell  you.  But  I 
don't  see  how  I  can,  somehow.  Dr.  Geneste  knows.  Will 
you  ask  him  to  tell  you  what  we  were  talking  about  this 
morning  ?  " 

Clare  stood  silent  for  a  minute  before  answering,  her 
brown  eyes  searching  the  girl's  face. 

"  Do  you  think  I  had  better  ask  him  ?  "  she  said  slowly. 
"  There  are  many  things  which  it  is  far  wiser  to  leave 


"WE  UNDERSTAND  EACH  OTHER."  273 

unsaid.  And,"  she  added,  "  there  are  things  which  it  is 
difficult  for  a  very  young  girl,  with  her  limited  knowledge, 
to  judge  justly.  We  learn,  as  we  grow  older  and  suffer 
more,  that  silence  is  generally  the  truest  sympathy." 

"  You  must  do  as   you  please,"  answered  Helen,  in  a 
choked  tone,  and  hurried  from  the  room. 


CHAPTER  XXIII. 

"  JUST  A  MAN  !  " 

GENESTE  and  Clare  had  ridden  almost  in  silence  for 
some  miles.  The  heat  was  very  great,  though  the  sun  was 
not  yet  high,  and  he  could  not  see  her  face,  swathed  as  it 
was  in  her  gray  veil.  She  was  riding  a  horse  of  his,  one 
he  had  brought  with  an  ulterior  view  to  rides  with  her, 
and  while  they  were  on  the  plain  he  mainly  occupied  him- 
self in  pacing  the  animal.  But  by  and  by  they  got  into 
the  gidia  scrub,  where  there  was  less  glare. 

"  I  wish  you  would  put  up  your  veil,"  he  said.  "  I 
know  you  are  above  small  vanities  ;  and,  besides,  I  know, 
too,  that  yours  is  the  sort  of  skin  which  doesn't  sunburn 
easily." 

She  did  as  he  wished;  and  then  he  fancied  that  under 
the  shelter  of  her  veil  she  had  been  crying. 

"  Don't  be  sad,"  he  said,  in  that  caressing  voice  which 
was  his  greatest  charm  with  women.  "  We  have  got  a  long 
day  before  us,  and  a  delightful  ride  in  the  dusk  to  Darra. 
Let  us  try  to  forget  that  there  is  anything  in  the  world  to 
make  us  unhappy." 

She  took  no  notice  of  the  appeal. 

"I  want  you  to  confess  something  truly  to  me,"  she  said 
seriously.  "  You  need  not  be  afraid  that  I  shall  be  jealous 
or  hurt.  Perhaps  I  am  above  those  small  vanities,  too. 
Tell  me,  did  you  ever  really  give  Helen  Cusack  cause  to 
think  that  you  cared  for  her?  " 

"  Frankly,"  he  replied,  "  if  it  hadn't  been  for  that  meet- 
ing with  you  at  Cedar  Hill,  and  the  revelation  you  gave 
me  of  your  real  self  the  night  we  camped  by  The  Grave, 

874 


"JUST  A  MAN!"  275 

I  think  it  is  more  than  likely  I  might  now  be  engaged  to 
Helen  Cusack.  Do  you  utterly  despise  me  ?  " 

"  No;  why  should  I  ?  It  is  what  I  supposed.  But  you 
have  not  quite  truly  answered  my  question." 

Geneste  hesitated.  "  There  are  things,"  he  said,  "  that 
a  man  doesn't  readily  tell,  even  to  the  woman  he  loves 
best  and  trusts  most :  not  so  much  because  they  show  him 
in  a  bad  light  as  because  they  concern  another  woman." 

"  Helen  came  to  my  room  this  morning  and  begged  me 
to  ask  you  to  tell  me  what  you  and  she  had  been  say- 
ing to  each  other  this  morning.  Does  that  meet  your 
objection  ?  " 

"  Did  she — really  ?  The  girl  is  extraordinary ;  she  is 
tremendous ;  she  is  sublime  !  Yes,  she  said  that  I  might 
tell  you,  or- that  she  would  tell  you  herself;  but  I  did  not 
think  she  meant  it.  Clare,  I  am  a  beast,  an  idiot,  or  per- 
haps it  would  be  more  to  the  point  to  say  that  I  am  a 
man  ! " 

"  Yes,"  she  answered,  with  a  melancholy  smile ;  and, 
for  the  first  time  applied  to  himself,  he  heard  a  faint 
intonation  of  scorn  in  her  voice.  "  Men  never  seem  to 
rise,  after  all,  to  being  much  more  than  men.  Well, 
tell  me." 

Then  he  told  her  the  whole  story  from  the  beginning  of 
his  attraction  toward  Helen — the  kiss,  the  revulsion,  the 
compact  of  friendship,  all — up  to  their  strange  talk  of  that 
morning. 

"  If  I  were  as  noble  as  she  is,"  said  Clare,  "  I  should 
resolve  never  to  see  you  again.  Then  you  would  in  time 
forget  me,  and  you  would,  of  course,  care  for  her,  and 
you  would  be  very  happy." 

"Do  you  think  that  is  possible,  after  having  loved 
you  ?  "  He  laughed  again,  almost  as  he  had  laughed  to 
Helen.  "  The  whole  thing  is  whimsical  ;  it's  ridiculous  !  " 

"  It  is  cruel  !  "  exclaimed  Clare  bitterly. 

"  Ah,  you  don't  seem  to  see  what  is  so  clear  to   me,  that 


276  MRS.  TREGASKISS. 

just  tliis  wonderful  magnanimity  and  candour  proves  lier 
utter  incomprehension  of  love — as  we  know  it.  Her  feeling 
forme,  poor  child  ! — and  Heaven  knows  how  unworthy  I  am 
of  it — is  a  poem,  a  dream,  much  the  sort  of  thing  that 
makes  a  certain  type  of  Roman  Catholic  girl  want  to  be  a 
nun;  it's  not  flesh  and  blood,  and  the  wound  doesn't  bleed. 
That's  my  consolation,  and  that  reconciles  me  to  the  posi- 
tion I've  put  myself  into,  which  would  be  humiliating 
enough  to  one's  self  in  the  ordinary  way." 

"  Do  you  remember  saying  tome  that  night  at  The  Grave 
that  Helen  Cusack  was  one  of  the  women  who  would  know 
the  real  thing  when  it  came  along  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  Yes,  I  remember.  Well,  the  conception  of  me  as  a 
fatuous  fool  gets  a  further  justification.  Jove  must  have 
been  in  a  curiously  ironic  mood  when  he  portioned  out  to 
ine  such  chances  of  happiness,"  he  added,  after  a  pause. 

"  Why  do  you  call  it  ironic  ?  " 

"  There's  something  of  the  Tantalus  touch  about  the  busi- 
ness, don't  you  think  ?  "  he  said  with  bitterness.  "  My  con- 
fession has  not  raised  me  in  your  estimation.  I  feel  that 
in  your  whole  manner." 

"  Perhaps.  But  I  have  wronged  that  poor  girl.  Be- 
sides," she  added  impetuously,  "last  night  has  made  me 
realise  again  how  impossible  it  all  is." 

"  Clare,  have  mercy  ! " 

"  I  have  mercy — too  much  mercy  on  you.  But  I  can 
have  none  on  myself.  The  worst  part  of  the  whole  thing 
is — to  know  you  as — a  man " 

"  Neither  saint  nor  hero,"  he  interjected.  "  Be  it  so.  I 
withdraw  all  pretensions  to  a  superhuman  virtue.  Well, 
dear,  beautiful,  magnificent  woman — and  I  can  only  wish 
you  were  still  more  woman " 

"  Oh,  don't,  don't  say  that  !  " 

"  Why  not  ?  it  is  true.  But  I  will  say  nothing  that  you 
wish  unsaid.  Finish  your  sentence." 

"  Not  now.     Those  words  take  the  sap  out  of  it." 


"JUST  A  MAN!"  277 

"I  insist.  Go  on  !  The  worst  part  of  the  whole  thing 
is — to  know  me — as  just  a  man — and " 

"And  to  love  you  because  you  are  yourself — just  your- 
self— no  better  than  I  am  ;  not  so  strong  as  even  Ambrose 
Blanchard." 

"  You  don't  know  the  story  of  Ambrose  Blanchard  and 
Gladys  Hilditch." 

"  I  can  guess  it.     He  left  her " 

"  For  the  reason  that  he  did  not  love  her  as  well  as  I 
love  you." 

She  made  a  gesture  full  of  perplexity  and  pain.  Geneste 
went  on  : 

"  Well,  if  he  did  show  superhuman  virtue, — putting  your 
construction  upon  the  matter, — he  may  have  his  reward 
now.  The  next  month  or  two  will  show  whether  he  chooses 
to  claim  it.  But  don't  let  us  talk  of  Blanchard  and  Mrs. 
Hilditch  ;  let  us  talk  of  ourselves.  Do  you  know,  my 
dearest,  a  moment  ago  I  was  wretched  at  the  idea  of  hav- 
ing made  you  despise  me  ?  Now  I  am  almost  glad  to  have 
fallen  from  my  pedestal — glad,  since  I  heard  those  last 
words  of  yours.  Down  on  earth,  I'm  nearer  to  you  in  one 
sense,  anyhow,  and  as  somebody  says  somewhere,  pedestals 
are  not  comfortable  places." 

"  Dr.  Geneste,"  she  said,  looking  at  him  with  great 
earnestness,  "  I  am  quite  serious  in  what  I  am  going  to 
ask  you." 

"  Mrs.  Tregaskiss,"  he  rejoined,  "  I  promise  to  give  your 
question  my  most  serious  attention." 

"  Don't  jest.     I  am  too  wretched  to  make  jokes." 

His  whole  manner  changed. 

"  Clare,  my  dearest,  don't  you  know  that  I  am  ridicu- 
lously, boyishly  happy  ?  And  do  you  know  why  ?  Be- 
cause you  said  that  you  loved  me  ;  loved  me  because  I 
am  just  my  own  imperfect  self — not  a  saint  or  a  hero. 
I'm  so  delighted  to  get  rid  of  my  halo  ;  it  will  become  you 
far  better.  I'll  put  you  on  the  pedestal  now.  I'll  fall 


278  MRS.   TREGASKISS. 

down  and  worship  you  ;  you  need  not  be  afraid  that  I  shall 
fail  in  one  iota  of  respect  for  you.  Only,  why  keep  up  the 
farce  of  conventionalities,  when  there's  no  part  to  play,  and 
we  are  out  of  earshot  of  every  living  creature  ?  You  have 
never  once  called  me  by  my  name.  Say  it,  Clare.  I  want 
to  hear  how  it  sounds  from  your  lips." 

"  What  is  it  ?  "  she  asked  perversely.  "  Yes,  I  know. 

Guy.  Guy  Geneste,  Guy  Livingstone  !  Guy What 

was  the  good  heir  of  Redclyffe  called  ?  Guy  !  I  don't  like 
it;  it's  only  fit  for  a  novel  or  the  theatre.  That's  just  it, — 
what  I  hate, — what  makes  me  hate  myself.  Good  women 
don't  play  parts,  and  it's  true  as  you  said.  We  have  apart 
to  play.  But  for  goodness  sake  let  us  keep  a  spice  of 
originality  !  We  needn't  repeat  the  hackneyed  business  : 
'Call  me  Edwin,  dearest ! '" 

"  Who  is  making  jokes  now  ?" 

She  had  turned  her  head  away;  he  had  known  that  it 
was  to  hide  her  quivering  lips,  even  when  she  spoke  so 
lightly.  Now  she  looked  at  him  full,  and  there  was  a 
scared  expression  in  her  eyes. 

"I'm  in  deadly  earnest;  it  has  all  come  over  me.  I've 
been  feeling  it  these  weeks  back.  But  last  night,  and  in  the 
dawn  this  morning,  when  I  lay  awake  with  baby  beside  me, 
and  Ning  and  he  were  resting  on  the  floor  near  me,  I  felt 
that  I  was  a  wicked  woman,  that  I  couldn't  hold  up  my  head 
and  look  straight  into  the  light  of  day.  I  felt  that  way 
when  Helen  Cusack  came  into  my  room  this  morning,  and 
I  knew  that  she  had  found  me  out,  and  that  she  was  having 
a  battle  with  herself,  so  that  she  mightn't  seem  to  be 
shrinking  back  from  me.  I  felt  that  I  must  end  it  all  ; 
that — last  night  must  never  come  again  ;  it  was  the  break- 
ing of  my  vow.  And  that's  what  I  mean.  I  am  going  to 
ask  you  never  to  come  and  see  me  at  Mount  Wombo 
again.  Go  to  Brinda  Plains  instead,  and  see  Helen 
Cusack.  You  can  make  some  excuse  ;  you  can  get  up  a 
quarrel  with  my  husband — that  would  be  the  best  way." 


"JUST  A  MAN!"  279 

"  Clare,  you  don't  really  mean  this — and  if  you  do,  can 
you  imagine  that  it  would  be  possible  for  either  of  us  ?  " 

"Everything  is  possible  when  one  determines  that  it 
shall  be  so.  You  could  marry  Helen  Cusack,  and  I  coxild 
bear  to  see  you  her  husband,  if  we  had  both  made  up  our 
minds  to  it." 

"  Put  that  notion  out  of  your  head  entirely,"  he  said, 
with  angei\  "  Perhaps  you  would  have  me  take  that  poor 
Quixotic  child  at  her  word,  and  lay  up  a  lifetime  of  misery 
for  her  as  well  as  for  myself — and  for  you.  Do  you  think 
you  would  be  any  happier  if  you  condemned  me  to  be 
miserable  ?  " 

"  I  think,"  she  answered  slowly,  "  that  we  are  condemn- 
ing each  other  every  time  we  meet  to  a  worse  misery  than 
we  could  have  any  other  way." 

"Clare,"  he  said  reproachfully,  "you  have  made  me 
happier  than  I  have  ever  been  in  all  my  life,  and  I  had 
hoped  that  I  was  helping  you  a  little.  You  said  so  in  the 
beginning." 

"  Ah,  in  the  beginning.  But  we  don't  seem  able  to  keep 
at  the  beginning.  It's  all  a  mistake,"  she  went  on.  "We 
thought  that  we  were  going  to  help  each  other ;  that  we 
were  going  to  make  a  new  world  for  each  other  ;  that  all 
the  hard  things  were  to  become  easier,  and  all  the  bad 
people  better,  because  we  loved  each  other." 

"  And  isn't  it  so  ?  "  he  asked  tenderly.  "  The  world  is 
much  better  to  me  because  of  your  love." 

"  You  think  so' just  now  that  we  are  together  and  alone. 
But  did  you  not  confess  yesterday  evening,  when  we  were 
walking  in  the  garden,  that  it  was  torture  to  be  with  me 
before  other  people — and  wretchedness  when  we  were 
apart  ?  " 

"Yes,  that  is  true.  But  sometimes  we  are  alone  together  ; 
and  five  minutes  of  such  happiness  is  worth  a  good  deal  of 
pain." 

"  And  yet,"  she  went  on,  "  when  we  are  alone  together 


280  MRS.   TREGASKIS8. 

you  are  often  tormented  by — by  the  limitations,  which,  oh, 
Heaven  !  are  so  easily  overstepped." 

"  You  have  said  it,"  he  answered.  "  I  am  but  human. 
And  I  love  you." 

"  Oh,  it  is  a  mistake,  a  terrible  mistake  !  "  she  cried  pas- 
sionately. "  Our  fine  theories  and  our  raptures,  and  all  our 
resolves  were  only  a  sort  of  glamour  to  cover  up  the  lie. 
That  is  what  it  is  ;  that  is  what  the  world  has  changed  to, — 
a  lie.  I  am  a  lie  to  the  neighbours,  to  myself,  to  my  chil- 
dren, and  to  my  husband.  What  does  it  matter  whether  he 
is  bad  or  good  ?  He  is  my  husband  ;  and  till  I  knew  you,  I 
was  true  to  him  in  every  action  of  my  life,  even  if  I  were 
false  in  the  thoughts  of  my  heart.  Now  lam  false  in  heart 
and  action  too.  I  am  false  when  I  lie  down,  false  when  I  rise 
up,  false  when  I  hear  my  little  child  say  her  prayers,  and 
she  repeats  after  me,  '  God  bless  father  and  mother.' 
Guy,  you  are  free;  you  have  no  other  claims;  you  can  live 
your  life  alone.  But  have  you  ever  thought  what  it  must 
mean  to  me — to  go  to  sleep  with  one's  name  on  my  lips, 
the  thought  of  one  man  only  in  my  heart,  and  the  longing 
that  we  may  be  together  in  my  dreams.  Then  to  wake 
with  that  one  image  in  my  mind;  my  dearest  hope  that  he 
may  come,  or  that  I  may  have  some  word  from  him  that 
day;  to  know  that  all  my  being  is  absorbed  in  him,  and 
to  know,  too,  that  I  am  the  wife  of  another  man — who  is 
the  father  of  my  children  :  to  be  living  under  that  man's 
roof,  eating  his  bread,  wearing  the  clothes  his  money  has 
bought  me — never  apart  from  him  day  or  night  ?  " 

The  words  rushed  out.  She  did  not  look  at  Geneste  as 
she  said  them,  and  when  she  broke  off,  gave  her  horse  a 
touch  with  the  whip,  and  they  cantered  on  for  some  time 
in  silence.  When  they  pulled  up,  he  said  very  quietly  : 

"  If  you  feel  it  so  badly  as  that,  my  poor  Clare,  there 
are  only  two  courses  for  us  to  choose  from." 

"Two  !"  she  repeated  feverishly. 

"I  must  do  what  you  say  you  wish — keep  apart  from  you 


"JUST  A  MAN!"  281 

altogether.  The  best  plan  would  be  for  me  to  go  away,  as 
I  have  sometimes  thought  I  might." 

"  Right  away  !  " 

"  Yes.  Sell  Darra-Darra  and  go  home  and  pick  up  my 
old  life  again." 

He  watched  her  face  with  an  eagerness  that  was  almost 
cruel,  hoping  that  his  words  would  wound  her.  He  was 
gratified.  She  gave  an  involuntary  murmur  of  pain. 

"  Right  away  !  "  she  repeated.  "  Back  to  England  !  and 
I  should  stay  out  here  alone  on  the  Leura,  desolate  !  " 

"  It  is  the  only  way,  if  I  am  to  obey  your  wish.  I  can- 
not remain  at  Darra,  within  thirty  miles  of  you,  and  not 
come  to  see  you.  It  would  be  beyond  my  strength." 

She  made  an  heroic  effort. 

"  Very  well.  I  think  you  are  right.  Go  !  The  other 
would  certainly  be  difficult  for  a  man — who  is — just  a 
man.  Yes,  you  must  go  back  to  England." 

They  were  both  silent  for  a  minute  or  two,  riding  on 
under  the  gidia  trees.  This  noonday  stillness  seemed 
awful.  Presently  he  said  :  "  I  told  you  there  were  two 
courses.  You  have  never  thought  of  the  alternative  ?" 

"  No." 

"  It  is  a  very  simple  one  ;  I  consider  it  a  perfectly  right- 
eous one,  according  to  all  natural  law.  Many  others  of  the 
world's  thinkers — far  better  and  wiser  people  than  I — advo- 
cate it.  Why  should  your  whole  life,  and  mine,  be  sacri- 
ficed to  a  mere  chimera  invented  by  man.  The  only 
real  marriage  is  that  of  hearts  and  souls  ?  Why  should 
we  be  apart  ?  Why  should  you  remain  here  desolate  ? 
Why  should  you  not  come  to  England  with  me,  and  be 
my  dearly  cherished  wife  and  companion,  as  long  as  our 
lives  last?" 

She  drew  a  deep  breath,  which  was  like  a  gasp.  "  Be- 
cause it  is  impossible,"  she  answered.  "  How  could  I  be 
your  wife  ?  " 

"  Tregaskiss   would    be    only    too    ready   to    take   his 


282  MRS.   TREGASKISS. 

freedom.  There  would  be  a  divorce,  and  we  should 
marry." 

Again  there  was  a  silence.  Then  she  said  abruptly  : 
"And  ray  children?" 

"  They  are  his  children.  You  have  often  said  that  you  did 
not  love  your  children  as  you  ought,  because  they  were  his." 

"  I  brought  them  into  the  world.  I  gave  them  life,  poor 
little  things  !  And  they  are  girls,  and  will  grow  up  to  be 
women — perhaps  women  like  their  mother.  And  they  will 
have  no  mother  to  help  them  to  make  a  better  thing  of 
their  life  than  she  has  done." 

"  You  had  no  mother." 

"  If  mine  had  lived,  I  might  not  have  married  Keith 
Tregaskiss  !  " 

The  dogs  following  them  started  a  kangaroo,  and  Clare's 
horse,  which  was  fresh,  snorted  and  tried  to  follow.  After 
a  minute  or  two,  it  quieted  down  again. 

"  Clare,"  Geneste  said,  "  I'm  not  going  to  talk  heroics, 
or  the  kind  of  sentiment  which,  in  novels,  anyhow,  goes 
with  the  proposal  I've  made.  I  only  want  you  to  know 
that  I  meant  it,  and  that  my  life  is  yours,  as  long  as  it,  or 
your  own,  lasts.  If  it  is  to  be  a  question  between  me  and 
the  children,  just  look  at  the  matter  this  way,  too  :  When 
your  children  are  grown,  they  will  leave  you,  and  their 
interests  will  be  apart  from  yours,  and  you  will  be  desolate 
indeed.  Your  children  are  your  fetters.  Well,  in  nine 
or  ten  years,  when  you  are  still  comparatively  a  young 
women,  natui'e  will  release  you  from  them — unless  you  go 
on  forging  new  fetters,  as  you  may  do." 

He  spoke  deliberately  ;  she  gave  a  shudder. 

"  It  would  be  sacrificing  a  lifetime  for  a  very  few  years. 
How  shall  you  feel,  when  those  years  are  over,  if  you  send 
me  away  now?  Of  course,  there  is  the  chance  of  freedom 
coming  in  a  different  way." 

"  Don't !  "  she  interrupted  hastily.  "  Don't  speak  of 
that  !  I  am  not  so  bad  as  to  speculate  on  death  or  evil." 


"JUST  A  MAN!"  283 

"I  won't  say  any  more  ;  and  there  is  the  Carmodys' 
fence.  We  needn't  talk  of  it;  only  let  the  idea  dwell  in 
your  mind,  and  shape  itself — as  a  possibility." 

"No,  no  !  "  she  cried  ;  "you  must  not  even  think  of  such 
a  possibility.  It  is  not  a  possibility;  it  is  absolutely  out 
of  the  question." 

"  Do  you  wish  me  then  to  go  away  ?  I  will  obey  you,  if 
you  command  it." 

"  Not  yet.  Let  us  give  ourselves  a  chance  of  becoming 
sensible."  She  smiled  a  miserable  smile,  which  contradicted 
the  suggestion.  "  Do  what  I  ask  you  ;  keep  away  from 
me,  at  least  for  a  time." 

"  Very  well.  I  will  try  to  do  so  ;  I  cannot  promise 
you  that  I  shall  succeed." 

He  got  off  his  horse  as  he  spoke,  to  let  down  the  slip-rails 
of  the  Carmodys'  paddock  fence.  She  passed  through  ; 
and  then  he  put  them  up  again,  and  they  cantered  toward 
the  head-station. 

Gunna-Warra,  as  the  place  was  called,  looked  ill-con- 
ditioned and  poverty-stricken  ;  and  it  was  easy  to  see  that 
as  few  hands  as  possible  were  employed  in  its  workings. 
The  fences  were  out  of  repair,  the  lower  part  of  the  garden 
a  wilderness,  and  the  trees  which  had  been  "  rung,"  and 
some  of  which  were  felled,  had  been  left  still  to  cumber 
the  ground.  The  gidia  scrub  which  surrounded  it  added 
to  its  melancholy  appearance.  The  house,  like  most  station 
houses,  stood  upon  a  slight  rise,  at  the  foot  of  which  was 
a  creek,  broadening  here  into  several  stagnant  lity-grown 
lagoons  ;  the  entrance  was  at  the  back. 

It  had  been  "  killing  morning,"  and  a  flock  of  crows 
and  hawks  were  hanging  about  the  stock-yard,  not  far  off, 
and  making  swoops  down  toward  the  meat-store  veranda, 
where  Mr.  Carmody,  with  his  shirt-sleeves  tucked  up,  was 
salting  meat,  assisted  by  a  couple  of  black  boys.  A  tall, 
prematurely  aged  girl  of  eleven  or  twelve,  had  just  taken 
away  a  tin  dish  full  of  unappetising  morsels  to  fry  for 
19 


284  MRS.   TREGASKISS. 

breakfast,  which  was  very  late  that  day  ;  some  other  chil- 
dren were  playing  about  the  yard,  and  several  black  gins 
were  squatted  on  their  haras,  nursing  pickaninnies  and 
smoking  clay  pipes,  the  reward  for  assistance  in  carrying 
down  the  "  cut-up  "  beast,  and  there  were  sundry  dogs  of 
the  kangaroo  and  a  sort  of  pariah  breed  sniffing  round. 
Mr.  Carmody  came  forward,  pulling  down  his  shirt-sleeves, 
and  greeted  them  with  subdued  geniality.  He  was  a  long, 
thin,  disjointed. looking bushman,  weather-beaten,  nnkempt, 
and  with  a  worried  expression.  He  apologised  to  Mrs.  Tre- 
gaskiss — she  knew  what  "killing  "  morning  meant,  when 
there  weren't  many  hands  going,  and  he  and  the  black  boys 
had  to  do  the  salting  between  them  ;  but  it  was  pretty 
near  finished,  and  he'd  go  up  and  get  the  cows  milked  so 
as  to  have  some  fresh  milk  for  breakfast — only  two  of  'em, 
Mrs.  Tregaskiss  ;  this  drought  is  diying  up  all  the  milkers. 

"  You  get  on,"  said  Geneste,  "  and  finish  up  your  salt- 
ing. I'll  go  and  milk  the  cows.  We've  come  upon  you 
unawares  ;  but  I'm  taking  Mrs.  Tregaskiss  over  to  Darra, — 
her  husband  is  with  the  buggy,  and  is  going  by  the  short- 
cut,— and  we  both  thought  it  was  a  good  chance  of  seeing 
Mrs.  Carmody." 

"  Well,  I'm  glad  you've  come,  doctor,  though  we  laughed 
at  your  doctoring  last  time  you  were  over.  The  missis 
isn't  just  the  thing.  First  time  since  I  don't  know  when. 
Said  she  felt  lazy  this  morning,  and  she  hasn't  got  up  yet." 

Geneste  looked  grave. 

"  How  has  Mrs.  Carmody  been  feeling?"  he  asked. 

"  Well,  I  don't  rightly  know.  Says  there's  a  sort  of 
numbness  down  one  side  of  her,  and  that  she  couldn't 
rightly  swallow.  And  she's  been  having  that  stupid  little 
cough  a  good  deal,  and  the  pain  in  her  chest." 

Geneste's  face  became  graver  still. 

"  You'll  let  me  have  a  look  at  her  to-day,  and  see  what 
that  pain  in  her  chest  means?  "  he  said. 

"  That's  what  I  want,  doctor.     I  don't  believe  it's  any- 


"JUST  A  MAN!"  285 

tiling,  for  it  goes,  and  she's  all  right  again.  Why,  she 
says  herself,  if  it  wasn't  for  that  pain  and  the  sort  of 
chokiness,  she'd  be  the  strongest  and  cheerfullest  woman 
on  the  Leura.  Cheerfullest,  she  is,  anyhow,"  added  Mr. 
Carmody,  with  his  perplexed  little  laugh  ;  "  and  it  isn't  a 
bit  like  her  to  give  in,  though  it  is  only  once  in  a  way,  and 
there  can't  be  much  amiss,  for  she  was  laughing  like  any- 
thing a  bit  ago.  But  I  think  I'd  just  like  you  to  go  in 
and  see  her  before  you  start  on  again." 

"  Certainly.     Shall  I  go  now,  or  milk  the  cow  first  ?  " 

"  Well,  if  you  didn't  mind — the  missis  always  has  her 
glass  of  fresh  milk  and  dash  of  rum  and  egg  about  ten  or 
eleven  o'clock  ;  and  we're  awfully  behind  this  morning. 
Mrs.  Tregaskiss,  don't  you  bother  about  that  pack,"  as 
Clare  was  unfastening  the  package  from  the  dees  of  her 
saddle.  "  Things  for  my  wife,  is  it  ?  Well,  that's  real 
kind  of  Mrs.  Cusack.  Hi,  Black  Billy,  there  !  you  take  it 
yarraman,  belonging  Mrs.  Tregaskiss.  And  how's  all  at 
Brinda?" 

"  I  suppose  you  don't  know  that  we  were  all  burned  out 
last  night?"  said  Clare.  And  then  amid  many  ejacula- 
tions on  the  part  of  Mr.  Carmody,  and  of  the  child  with 
the  dish  of  meat,  who  had  stopped  to  listen,  she  told  the 
story.  Geneste,  in  the  meanwhile,  unsaddling  and  leading 
the  horses  to  the  yai'd,  and  then  going  to  the  milkers. 
Mr.  Carmody,  wiping  the  salt  from  his  hands,  led  Mrs. 
Tregaskiss  into  a  roughly  furnished  sitting-room,  which 
had,  somehow,  a  forlorn  look,  as  if  the  mistress  had  not 
put  things  straight  that  morning — the  kerosene  lamp  un- 
trimmed,  and  with  a  black  rim  round  its  bowl  of  dead  fly- 
ing ants  and  moths,  and  Mrs.  Carmody's  basket  of  mend- 
ings on  the  sewing-machine  stand,  a  half-darned  sock  hang- 
ing out  of  it. 

"  We're  in  a  dreadful  muck  this  morning,"  said  Mr. 
Carmody.  "  The  missis  does  the  tidying — always  up  first 
thing,  and  doing  her  lamps  and  cleaning  round.  Ah,  Mrs. 


286  MRS.   TREGASKISS. 

Tregaskiss  !  when  I  see  her  at  it,  and  think  of  what  she 
was  when  I  married  her,  one  of  the  prettiest  girls  down 
Sydney  way,  and  used  to  gaiety  and  comforts,  and  Eng- 
lish ways  like  the  best  of  them, — not  but  what  yon  are  an 
example  of  that,  too, — I  say  to  myself  that  a  man  has  no 
right  to  bring  a  woman  out  West,  unless  he's  a  com- 
pany's manager,  like  Cusack,  or  a  millionaire  like  Cyrus 
Chance." 

Clare,  following  Geneste's  lead,  put  the  room  tidy,  and 
talked  to  the  children,  while  Carmody  went  in  to  prepare 
his  wife  for  her  visitor.  By  and  by  he  came  out  and  told 
Clare  she  might  go  in,  and  she'd  find  Mrs.  Carmody  quite 
herself,  and  wanting  to  get  up  and  see  after  tilings  ;  but 
she,  Mrs.  Tregaskiss,  mustn't  let  her.  And  he  scurried  off, 
enjoining  the  eldest  girl  to  hurry  up  in  the  kitchen. 

"  Come  in,  Mrs.  Tregaskiss,"  said  a  faint,  laughing  voice, 
as  Clare  knocked  at  the  door.  Mrs.  Carmody's  room  looked 
more  dainty  and  comfortable  than  the  rest  of  the  house, 
though  the  floor  was  only  of  earth,  covered  with  skins  and 
rugs,  and  it  had  no  glass  windows,  only  wooden  shutters  ; 
but  there  were  pictures  hanging  on  the  canvas  walls,  and 
the  dressing-table  was  covered  with  chintz,  and  there  were 
some  cushioned  squatters'  chairs,  and  a  writing  table. 
Mrs.  Carmody  was  lying  in  the  big  bed,  supported  by  pil- 
lows, with  the  mosquito-curtains  thrown  up,  the  pink 
glazed  calico  bows  dangling  at  the  head  making  a  spot  of 
colour,  and  matching  Mrs.  Cai'mody's  cheeks,  flushed  with 
the  exertion  of  getting  into  a  fresh,  frilled  nightdress. 
There  was,  to  Clare,  something  intensely  pathetic  in  this 
effort  of  the  poor  dying  woman  to  be  equal  to  the  occasion, 
for  she  was  dying,  there  could  be  no  doubt  of  that,  and 
for  a  moment  Mrs.  Tregaskiss'  heart  stood  still  with  the 
shock  of  dismay.  But  the  little  pretty  thing — though  she 
was  thirty-five,  she  looked  extraordinarily  young  and 
charming  with  her  fluffy  yellow  hair,  bright  eyes,  and 
spiritualised  expression — laughed  on  : 


"JUST   A  MAN  !"   '  287 

"It's  quite  absurd  for  rne  to  be  in  bed.  But  this  morn- 
ing I  really  felt  so  tired,  and  I  said  to  Jem  that  I  thought 
I'd  just  take  it  easy  for  a  bit,  and  have  the  little  ones  in 
with  me  here  and  amuse  them  while  Jenny  was  doing  my 
work.  Jem  says  I'd  better  see  Dr.  Geneste  as  he  has  come 
over,  but  I  don't  see  the  use,  for  there's  nothing  the  matter  ; 
except  just  that  I  feel  queer  and  numb-like,  and  this 
troublesome  pain  in  my  chest  that  comes  and  goes,  and 
seems  to  choke  me  for  the  moment." 

Clare  noticed  that  her  voice  changed  oddly  as  she  talked  ; 
and  then  her  cough  hindered  her  utterance  and  she  leaned 
back  and  gulped  as  though  she  were  being  strangled.  The 
attack  went  off  in  a  minute  or  two  and  she  gasped,  with  a 
smile  : 

"  There,  it's  gone  now  !  I'm  all  right  again.  I  dare  say 
Dr.  Geneste  will  tell  me  of  something  for  it ;  and  I  shall 
be  quite  well  to-morrow." 

"  I  think  you  had  better  see  him,  dear  Mrs.  Carmody," 
said  Clare,  afraid  that  her  faltering  voice  might  betray  her, 
for  she  felt  extremely  anxious. 

"Oh,  well,  I  will  then,  after  you've  had  breakfast  and 
they've  brought  me  my 'doctor,' as  Jem  calls  the  twelve 
o'clock  rum  and  milk.  Are  your  cows  dying,  Mrs.  Tregas- 
kiss,  and  drying  up,  too,  from  the  drought  ?  It's  quite 
dreadful  with  us ;  we  can  hardly  get  enough  for  the 
babies,"  and  so  on  ;  and  Clare  sat  by  her  and  listened  and 
assented  and  told  about  the  fire  and  praised  the  looks  of 
the  babies,  till  at  last  Mr.  Carmody,  in  a  clean  shirt  and 
coat,  and  with  cleansed  hands  and  arms,  pushed  open  the 
door  and  cheerily  ushered  in  Dr.  Geneste. 

"All  right,  doctor  !  you  can  have  your  way  at  last,  and 
overhaul  the  old  Iad3r,  but  don't  you  go  telling  me  there's 
anything  amiss,  for  that  colour  of  hers  will  give  you  the 
lie,  and  I  shan't  believe  you.  You  doctors  always  want  to 
make  out  a  case." 


CHAPTER  XXIV. 

POOR    MRS.  CARMODY. 

THE  doctor  seemed  to  be  a  very  long  time  with  the  sick 
woman.  When  he  came  out,  there  was  a  look  upon  his 
face  which  Mrs.  Tregaskiss  hoped  she  might  never  see 
again.  It  was  strange  how,  in  a  moment,  he  had  become  an 
abstraction  removed  from  all  personal  stress  and  excite- 
ment ;  not  the  man,  but  the  physician  ;  a  reflection,  as  it 
were,  of  those  mighty  human  interests  beside  which  indi- 
vidual emotions  sink  into  nothingness.  Clare  felt  some- 
thing of  this,  too.  Her  drama  and  his  were  absorbed  in 
and  annihilated  by  the  thrilling  drama  of  death  into  which 
they  had  been  suddenly  and  startlingly  thrown.  It  was 
terrible  to  see  Mr.  Carmody's  unconcern,  and  absolute  uncon- 
sciousness of  impending  catastrophe.  He  sat  with  Clare 
in  the  sitting-room,  waiting  for  the  doctor,  the  breakfast 
table  spread,  and  talked  about  the  Brinda  Plains  fire,  the 
unionists,  the  drought,  Tregaskiss'  bores,  never  suspect- 
ing that  his  own  fate  and  that  of  his  dearest  hung  upon 
the  examination  going  on  within  that  closed  door. 

"  Well,  doctor,"  he  said  cheerily,  when  Geneste  appeared, 
"  is  she  going  to  get  up  ?  Have  you  given  her  a  good 
scolding  for  her  laziness  ?  Eh  !  Man  !  What — what  is 
the  matter?" 

Geneste  went  straight  to  him. 

"  Carmody,"  he  said,  in  a  low  voice,  deeply  moved, 
"there's  no  good  in  blinking  things  to  you,  anyhow  ;  I've 
got  to  break  bad  news.  You've  heaps  of  pluck,  old  fellow, 
and  you'll  want  it.  You've  got  to  bear  a  shock — the  worst 
a  man  can  have  to  bear." 

288 


POOR  MRS.   CARMODY.  289 

"  Eh  !  What — what  do  you  mean  ?  "  stammered  Car- 
mody,  frightened  and  taken  aback  by  Geneste's  manner. 

"  Your  wife  is  very  ill  indeed.  Very,  very  ill.  Do 
you  understand  ?  "  Carmody  was  staring  stupidly.  "  She 
lias  been  bad  for  a  long  time  ;  and  neither  of  you  have 
realised  it.  Now  I  am  sorry  to  have  to  tell  you  that  there 
is  no — there  is  very  great  danger." 

"  Danger,"  repeated  Carmody,  still  blankly. 

"  Very  great  danger — imminent  danger." 

"  But  what  do  you  mean,  man  ?  "  roared  Carmody.  "  Why, 
she  was  laughing  at  me  a  minute  ago  !  Danger  !  You 
must  be  dreaming  ;  you  don't  know  what  you  are  talking 
about." 

"I  wish  that  I  did  not.  Look  here,  Carmody;  I've  got 
to  make  it  clear  to  you.  I  wish  to  God  I  could  give  you 
any  hope,  but  I  can't." 

"  Can't — give — me — any — hope  !  "  repeated  poor  Car- 
mody, with  a  jerk  between  each  word,  while  he  gazed 
fixedly  at  the  doctor,  as  though  he  were  fascinated  by  some 
horrible  sight.  Then,  "  Will  you  please  to  tell  me,"  he 
cried  almost  angrily,  "  what  is  the  matter  with  my  Bessy?  " 

"  Your  wife  has  an  aortic  aneurism,"  replied  Geneste. 
"  The  pain  in  her  chest,  which  I  felt  sure  could  not  mean 
lung  mischief,  and  the  little  choking  cough,  and  other 
symptoms,  have  made  me  afraid  of  late  months  that  it  might 
be  the  case,  though  the  disease  is  not  common  with  women, 
especially  when  comparatively  young.  That  is  what  made 
me  hesitate  to  speak  of  my  suspicion  ;  and  you  wouldn't 
hear  of  my  approaching  Mrs.  Carmody  medically.  Now, 
since  I  have  examined  her  chest,  and  have  felt  the  pulsating 
swelling,  I  have  no  doubt  ;  and  I  don't  know  what  to  say 
to  you  or  how  to  advise  you  about — about  " — Geneste's  own 
voice  broke — "  conveying  to  her  that  she  may  not  have 
long  to  live." 

"  Geneste  !  Doctor  !  you  don't  mean — you  can't  mean 
that  she  is  dying?" 


290  MRS.    TREGASKISS. 

"I  am  afraid,"  said  Geneste,  in  a  low  emphatic  voice, 
which  shook  with  pity,  "  that  I  must  tell  you  she  may  die 
at  any  moment ;  she  may  live  a  week,  a  fortnight ;  she 
may  die  within  the  next  half  hour." 

Carmody  burst  into  an  hysterical  laugh.  "And  you 
want  me  to  tell  her  she  is  dying  !  Do  you  expect  me 
to  believe  it  ?  You  don't  know  your  business,  doctor  ; 
you're  deceived,  you're  out  of  practice." 

"Do  you  think  I'd  say  a  thing  like  that  to  you  if  I 
wasn't  sure.  Go  in,  Carmody,  put  her  in  a  sitting  position, 
and  j'ou'll  believe  me  then.  I  know  it's  an  awful  blow. 
I'm  only  doing  my  duty  in  telling  you  straight.  Go  in — 
there's  not  much  time.  Try  to  be  calm.  Talk  to  her. 
You  know  her  and  you  know  what  she  would  wish,  and  if 
she  would  willingly  leave  her  children — and  you,  without  a 
word." 

Mr.  Carmody  sank  helplessly  upon  a  chair.  "You  want 
me  to  tell  her — that  she  is  dying  ;  tell  her — my  poor  little 
Bessy,  who  was  planning  only  last  night  how  we'd  take  a 
trip  to  Sj'dney  when  the  bad  times  were  over,  and  put  Jennie 

to  school, — my  Bessy — the  pluckiest,  cheeriest Tell 

her  she  is  dying  !  No,  I'm  d d  if  I  can  do  that ! " 

He  broke  down  altogether,  and  lurching  forward,  his 
head  on  his  arms,  cried  out  like  a  child. 

A  voice  came  from  the  sick  room  :  "  Jem  !  "  The  door 
was  thin  and  there  were  wide  canvas-covered  gaps  between 
the  slabs  of  the  wall.  The  poor  woman  must  have  heard 
that  despairing  cry.  "What  is  it  he  says  he  can't  do?" 
the  feeble  voice  went  on  ;  and  just  then  the  two  little 
children,  who  had  run  in  from  the  veranda  to  their  mother 
as  soon  as  the  doctor  had  left  her,  set  up  a  wail.  Geneste 
looked  at  Clare. 

"Will  3rou  go  to  her?  I  will  do  what  I  can  with  him, 
poor  chap  ! " 

Just  then  Jennie,  the  eldest  girl,  came  in,  followed  by 
a  half-caste  with  the  dish  of  smoking  fry.  "  It's  read}', 


POOR  MRS.    CARMODY.  291 

father,"  she  said.  "Shall  I  take  some  in  to  mother?" 
And  then  she  stood  still,  her  gaze  fixed  in  consternation 
upon  the  father,  who  was  sobbing  with  his  head  on  the 
luncheon  table.  Clare  took  her  hand. 

"  Jennie,  dear,"  she  whispered,  "come  and  take  the  chil- 
dren away.  The  doctor  has  been  telling  your  father  that 
your  mother  is  very  ill,  and  he  wants  to  talk  to  her." 

"  Oh,  Mrs.  Tregaskiss  !  "  The  child's  eyes  grew  rounder, 
but  she  said  no  more.  She  was  a  wise  little  creature,  and 
went  in  with  Clare  to  her  mother's  room  and  took  out  the 
babies,  who  were  fighting  with  each  other  and  crying  on 
the  floor. 

Mrs.  Carmody  was  half  sitting  up  in  bed.  Something 
of  that  look  which  nurses  call  "  the  change  "  had  come  into 
her  face  ;  the  laugh  had  gone,  and  the  smile  had  given 
place  to  an  expression  of  terror. 

"  Take  them  away,  Jennie,  out  into  the  veranda  ;  perhaps 
I  shall  want  them  presently.  Mrs.  Tregaskiss,"  she  gasped, 
"  tell  me — what  is  it.  What  has  the  doctor  been  saying  to 
Jem?  Has  he  been  telling  him  that  I  shall  never  get 
better?  Tell  me — you  needn't  be  afraid.  I  heard  him  say 
the  word — dying,  and  I  saw  it  in  his  face.  Am  I  dying  ?  " 

Clare's  only  answer  was  to  take  the  poor  thing  in  her 
arms  and  to  put  the  wan  face,  with  all  the  pink  gone  out  of 
it  now,  against  her  own. 

"  I  feel  so  strange,"  said  Mrs.  Carmody.  "  Lay  me 
down  again."  She  was  perfectly  calm.  After  a  few  min- 
utes she  said  :  "  Poor  Jem  !  That  was  him  crying.  I'm 
so  glad  I've  been  a  comfort  to  him."  There  was  a  little 
pause,  filled  by  Clare  in  arranging  the  poor  thing  more 
comfortably  on  her  pile  of  pillows.  There  were  no  medi- 
cines, there  was  nothing  to  give  her  ;  it  seemed  so  unlike 
most  sick  rooms,  when  the  sick  person  is  in  extremity. 
"  Mrs.  Tregaskiss," — the  bright  eyes  searched  Clare's  face 
through  and  through,  with,  as  Clare  thought  later,  that 
sort  of  prescience  which  comes  sometimes  to  the  dying — 


292  MRS.   TREGASKISS. 

"  listen  !  I  want  to  say  something  to  you.  Once  I  was 
nearly  leaving  Jem  and  the  babies,  and  going  off  with  an- 
other man,  because  I  loved  him,  and  he  was  rich,  and  I 
hated  the  bush.  But  I  didn't,  and  I  am  so  thankful,  now 
I'm  dying,  that  I  didn't.  Do  you  know,  it's  the  first 
thought  that  seems  to  come  to  me.  Oh,  it's  such  a  comfort 
when  you're  dying  to  know  that  you've  managed  to  keep 
straight,  and  that  you've  looked  after  the  children  the  best 
way  you  could." 

Clare  went  out.  The  words  were  like  insistent  hands 
knocking  at  her  heart.  Poor  Mr.  Carmody  met  her,  grop- 
ing his  way,  it  appeared,  his  eyes  nearly  blinded  with  cry- 
ing. He  went  in  and  closed  the  door.  Clare  heard  a 
plaintive  call,  "Jem  !  "  and  then  only  a  stifled  murmur  as 
the  husband  and  wife  held  their  last  talk  together. 

Geneste  was  sitting  in  the  parlour,  waiting  till  he  should 
be  wanted  again.  There  was  something  terribly  grim  in 
the  look  of  the  spread  table,  the  untasted  luncheon,  and  the 
dish  of  fry  getting  cold  and  sodden.  Clare  exchanged  a 
few  hurried  words  with  Geneste  about  Mrs.  Carmody's 
condition,  and  he  confirmed  her  fear  that  the  end  was  very 
close.  His  solicitude  on  her  own  behalf  jarred  inexpressi- 
bly upon  Clare  ;  she  waved  away  with  impatience  his  en- 
treaty that  she  would  eat  something,  or  at  least  have  a 
drink  of  the  fresh  milk  from  which  Mrs.  Carmody's  "  doctor  " 
had  been  taken. 

"No,  no  !"  she  cried,  almost  angrily.  "  How  can  I  eat? 
How  can  I  think  of  anything  but " 

But She  hurried  away  from  him.  "What  she  was 

thinking  of  was  that  speech  of  Mrs.  Carmody's.  "It's 
such  a  comfort  when  you're  dying  to  know  that  you've 
managed  to  keep  straight,  and  that  you've  looked  after  the 
children  the  best  way  you  could." 

In  the  veranda  Jennie  was  nursing  the  youngest  child, 
crying  softly  on  its  hair,  the  two  next  smallest  whining  and 
squabbling  at  her  knee. 


POOR  MRS.   CARMODY.  293 

"Oli,  hush,  Jake  and  Kathleen,  hush!"  cried  poor 
Jennie.  "  I  can't  tell  you  a  story.  They  want  me  to  tell 
them  a  story,  Mrs.  Tregaskiss.  Mother  Avas  telling  them 
stories  when "  And  Jennie's  tears  fell. 

"  Mother's  stories  are  beautiful,"  said  Jake  :  "  all  about 
the  people  who  lived  with  gods  and  goddesses  and  got 
changed  into  things." 

"I  will  tell  you  a  story,  then,  about  someone  who  lived 
with  the  gods  and  goddesses,  and  whom  a  wicked  goddess 
tried  to  change  into  a  pig.  It's  the  story  of  a  king  who 
went  sailing  and  sailing,  and  got  on  to  strange  countries 
and  among  very  curious  people." 

"  Oh,  I  know  that,"  put  in  Jake  contemptuously.  "It's 
only  Sinbad  and  the  Old  Man  of  the  Sea.  There  are  no 
gods  in  that." 

"You  don't  know  my  story.  It  wasn't  Sinbad;  it  was  a 
king,  very  brave  and  wise,  who  went  a  long,  long  way  from 
his  wife  and  his  son  to  fight  for  his  friend.  And  when  the 
war  was  over,  after  many  years,  Ulysses — that  was  the 
king's  name — took  his  ships  and  started  to  go  home. 
Well,  on  his  way  back  there  was  a  storm,  and  the  ships 
were  brought  to  a  land  where  there  lived  a  very  wicked 
and  beautiful  woman,  and  she  sat  spinning  in  her  palace,  a 
web  of  the  most  brilliant  colours,  and  watching  for  some 
man  to  come  along,  that  she  might  pretend  to  love  him 
and  give  him  to  drink  of  her  cup  of  witch's  wine,  in  which 
she  had  mixed  all  kinds  of  dreadful  herbs  and  enchantments, 
so  that,  when  he  had  drunk,  he  would  forget  everything  and 
she  would  have  power  to  change  him  into  some  horrible 
beast." 

"  That's  a  good  story,"  put  in  Jake  appreciatively. 

"  And  outside  her  palace  were  wild  beasts  watching,  too, 
while  she  wove  her  web.  There  was  a  leopard " 

The  bedroom  door  opened  with  a  sharp  click,  and  Mr. 
Carmody  came  out.  He  made  a  sign  to  Dr.  Geneste  to  go 
in,  and  then  called  quietly  to  Jennie  and  the  little  ones. 


294  MRS.   TREGASKISS. 

He  told  Jennie  to  go  and  find  her  brothers,  and  bring  them, 
because  their  mother  wanted  to  speak  to  them  all  ;  and 
then,  taking  the  two  little  ones  by  the  hand,  bade  them  be 
very  good  and  listen  attentively  to  what  mother  said. 

Clare  waited  in  the  veranda.  Afterward  Geneste  told 
her  how  it  had  been  ;  how  Mrs.  Carmody  had  kissed  each 
of  them,  and  had  told  each  separately  to  try  and  be  good 
and  to  love  the  others,  and  that,  though  she  was  going  out 
of  their  sight,  she  should  always  be  near  watching  to  see 
if  they  obeyed  her,  and  that  it  would  make  "  mother " 
veiy  glad  and  happy  to  know  that  they  were  good.  She 
bade  Jennie,  in  especial,  to  take  care  of  her  father  and 
the  little  ones,  and  she  bade  the  boys  to  tell  the  truth 
always,  and  to  follow  their  father  in  all  things.  Then, 
just  as  she  was  trying  to  lift  herself  that  she  might  kiss 
the  baby  again,  she  fell  back,  and  when  they  looked  at  her 
she  was  dead. 

Geneste  rode  on  to  Darra,  before  he  went  sending  one 
of  the  Gunna-Warra  black  boys  to  Brinda  Plains  with  a 
note  to  Mrs.  Cusack,  telling  her  what  had  happened,  and 
begging  her  to  find  means  of  communicating  with  the 
clergyman  at  Ilgandah.  He  felt  sure  that  kind  Mrs. 
Cusack,  in  spite  of  her  own  worries  after  the  fire,  would 
come  over  to  the  desolate  children,  or  would,  at  least,  send 
the  wife  of  the  storekeeper  or  one  of  the  women  from  the 
workings.  He  did  not  spare  his  horses,  and  was  back 
again  that  night,  to  find  that  his  anticipations  were  justi- 
fied. Mrs.  Cusack  was  there,  and  had  taken  the  command 
of  everything. 

It  needed  just  such  an  energetic,  practical  person,  with 
abundance  of  the  milk  of  human  kindness  for  those  in 
need,  to  rouse  the  bereaved  husband,  stupefied  with  the 
shock  of  his  sudden  calamity.  Mrs.  Cusack  made  all  the 
arrangements  ;  got  black  stuff  from  the  store,  and,  with 
the  help  of  Mrs.  Tregaskiss  and  the  overseer's  wife,  rigged 
out  the  poor  children  in  mourning.  The  clergyman  from 


POOR  MRS.   CARMODY.  295 

Ilgandah  arrived  shortly.  He  was  not  a  resident  there, 
but  was  doing  his  half  yearly  official  duty  in  the  way  of 
baptisms  and  marriages.  On  the  third  day  Mrs.  Carmody 
was  buried  under  a  clump  of  gum  trees  by  the  creek,  on  a 
knoll  above  floodmark.  One  of  her  babies,  who  had  died 
a  few  days  after  its  bii'th,  was  buried  there.  It  was  after 
that  baby's  coming  that  she  had  begun  to  get  thin  and 
have  her  worrying  little  pain  and  cough — and  the  place 
had  been  a  favourite  walk  of  the  poor  lady's  when  her 
day's  work  was  over.  She  had  been  used  to  sit  there  in 
the  cool  of  the  evening,  with  her  sewing,  and  tell  the 
children  stories.  The  funeral  was  very  quiet  and  very 
pathetic.  The  overseer's  wife  and  Mrs.  Cusack  wept  bit- 
terly. Clare  Tregaskiss  did  not  cry,  but  her  heart  was 
like  lead  ;  and  once,  Geneste,  who  was  there,  caught  a 
wild,  strange  look,  which  she  cast  out  into  the  gidia  forest, 
and  wondered  of  what  she  was  thinking.  She  had  not 
allowed  him  opportunity  for  a  single  word  of  private  con- 
versation. He  was  then  even  more  unhappy  than  she. 
He  wrote  her  a  long  letter,  which  he  got  conveyed  to  her, 
begging  her  to  forgive  him  for  his  proposal,  if  it  had 
shocked  or  affronted  her ;  repeating  his  arguments  in 
sober,  matter-of-fact  fashion  ;  asseverating  his  unaltered 
devotion,  and,  in  conclusion,  promising  that  he  would 
obey  whatever  command  she  choose  to  put  upon  him.  Her 
answer  was  four  words  only,  scribbled  upon  a  scrap  of 
paper,  which  she  herself  put  into  his  hand  after  the  funeral 
— "  Keep  away  from  me." 

Helen  Cusack  did  not  come  to  the  funeral,  but  she  sent 
a  beautiful  cross  of  white  lilies  and  maidenhair  fern. 
Tottie  and  Minnie  and  Miss  Lawford  sent  one  also,  and 
there  were  many  humbler  tributes  on  the  coffin,  perhaps 
the  most  touching  of  all,  the  nosegays  of  native  jasmine 
thrown  by  Jake  and  Kathleen,  in  gathering  which  Clare 
had  kept  them  quiet  the  whole  of  the  previous  afternoon. 

It  was  a  sad  little  family  tragedy,  but  not  uncommon  in 


296  MRS.   TREGASKISS. 

the  outside  districts,  where  delicate  ladies  lead  the  lives  of 
peasant  women  in  a  tropical  climate,  with  the  enfeebling 
influence  of  which,  at  least,  the  peasant  woman  of  the 
northern  hemisphere  has  not  to  contend.  The  strong 
grow  patient,  resourceful,  and  hardy  ;  the  weak  become 
patient  and  resourceful,  too  ;  but,  after  a  time,  fall  and 
don't  get  up  again.  The  stockmen's  wives  and  the  work- 
ing-women, inheriting  a  strain  of  endurance  in  their  blood, 
get  on  in  the  out-country  fairly  well,  and  may  live  to  see 
their  children's  children  ;  but  the  refined,  fragile  ladies 
will  do  the  work  of  six  slaveys,  bear  their  hardships  and 
their  children  without  a  murmur,  and  fight  drought,  heat, 
blight,  and  fever  with  indomitable  courage  for  a  few 
years  ;  then,  all  of  a  sudden  will  develop  rapid  consump- 
tion, or  some  other  insidious  disease,  and  die  just  as  their 
children  are  getting  out  of  babyhood  and  the  pleasant 
afternoon  of  life  is  coming  on  them. 

Clare  Tregaskiss  was  immensely  affected  by  the  melan- 
choly incident.  It  seemed  to  her  a  foreshowing  of  her 
own  fate.  It  would  not  be  consumption  that  she  would 
develop,  but  heart  disease.  Geneste  had  warned  her. 
And  then  where  would  have  been  the  use  of  renunciation  ? 
Her  little  daughters  would  be  as  utterly  bereft  as  though 
she  had  basely  forsaken  them  for  the  sake  of  her  own  self- 
ish joy.  And  what  good  would  Keith  get  from  her  sacri- 
fice?— what  good,  in  any  case,  since  lie  had  already 
discovered  that  she  was  incapable  of  making  him  happy  ? 
Where  was  the  use  of  anything  in  this  universal  crooked- 
ness— of  poor  Helen's  romantic  love  for  Geneste,  of  her 
own  ten  years'  struggle  to  meet  her  fate  stoically,  and  to 
conform  herself  to  her  life  ?  What  was  the  good  of  hav- 
ing kept  all  those  years  a  calm  face  and  a  heart  unstirred 
in  its  depths,  if  she  were  to  succumb  like  an  undisciplined 
schoolgirl,  her  passion  and  her  pain  only  intensified  by  the 
years  of  repression  ?  Yet  those  words  of  Mrs.  Carmody's 
haunted  her,  and  filled  her  alternately  with  a  sense  of  re- 


POOR  MRS.   CARMODY.  297 

morseful  guilt  and  of  immense  and  angry  revolt.  Should 
she,  when  she  was  dying,  rejoice  that  she  had  "  managed 
to  keep  straight"  ?  Rather  might  not  the  same  ghastly 
doubt,  which  had  occurred  to  her  at  Mrs.  Carrnody's  bed- 
side, embitter  her  own  death  throes  ? — the  doubt  that  per- 
haps, if  she  had  not  kept  straight,  poor  soul  !  but  had  gone 
the  way  of  frail  womanhood,  she  would  have  had,  at  any 
rate,  her  hour  of  blessedness,  and  almost  certainly  a  longer 
time  afterward  in  which  to  repent,  than  had  been  allotted 
to  her  for  the  doing  of  her  prosaic  duty  ? 

The  whole  Darra-Darra  plan  was  upset,  or  rather  post- 
poned, by  this  untoward  event.  Geneste's  Gunna-Warra 
messenger  had  met  the  buggies  from  Brinda  Plains,  strik- 
ing off  for  the  short-cut,  and  on  learning  what  had  occurred, 
Helen  Cusack  decided  on  her  own  responsibility  to  turn 
back,  taking  Miss  Lawford  and  the  children  with  her.  She 
knew  that  her  mother  would  certainly  go  on  to  Gunna- 
Warra,  and  guessed  that  Geneste  would  remain  for  the 
funeral,  and  that  on  the  whole,  visiting  Darra  was  inex- 
pedient just  then.  Perhaps  Tregaskiss'  surly  mood  was 
accounted  for  by  this  change  of  programme.  He  had  gone 
on  with  Gladys  Hilditch,  and  when  Geneste  arrived,  had 
expressed  himself  extremely  dissatisfied  at  his  wife's  non- 
appearance.  Clare  knew  quite  well  how  it  had  been.  He 
had  grumbled  that  he  wanted  her  back  at  Mount  Wombo, 
and  that  he  wished  to  get  there  himself  as  soon  as  possible  ; 
there  was  no  knowing  what  the  unionists  might  be  up  to  ; 
and  now  that  poor  Mrs.  Carmody  was  dead  and  done  for, 
it  wasn't  as  if  she,  Clare,  could  do  any  good  by  staying 
at  Gunna-Warra.  At  any  rate,  he  meant  to  go  on  home 
the  next  day;  and  she  might  do  as  she  pleased.  This  was 
the  message  he  sent. 

Geneste  said  in  reply  that  he  should  be  delighted  to 
escort  Mrs.  Tregaskiss  straight  over  to  Mount  Wombo 
from  Gunna-Warra  ;  they  could  easily  manage  it  by  chang- 
ing horses  at  Darra. 


298  MRS.   TREGASKISS. 

"  Oh,  you  may  escort  her  to  the  devil  if  you  like  ! " 
roared  Tregaskiss  ;  "  I  don't  want  to  interfere  with  you." 

He  pulled  himself  up  a  moment  later,  and  blurted  out 
a  sort  of  apology  :  "  The  sun  had  given  him  an  infernal 
headache  ;  he  didn't  know  what  he  was  saying."  Geneste 
saw  that  he  had  been  "  nipping," — the  Leura  euphemism, — 
and  turned  away  in  silent  and  contemptuous  acceptance  of 
the  apology. 

Gladys  Hilditch,  who  was  sitting  in  the  veranda,  raised 
her  eyebrows  and  went  on  with  her  book,  pretending  she 
had  heard  nothing.  Yet  Gladys  was  sorry  for  poor  Tre- 
gaskiss. She  divined,  if  Geneste  did  not,  something  of  the 
conflict  of  elemental  emotions  which  was  waging  within 

o       o 

him  ;  it  was  not  Tregaskiss'  way  to  keep  his  thoughts  and 
feelings  to  himself,  and  on  the  road  over  he  had  opened 
out  a  little  to  Glad378.  She  knew  that  wounded  pride,  law- 
less attraction,  jealousy,  a  galling  sense  of  inferiority  and 
of  wrong-doing,  paternal  affection  and  conjugal  impulse, — 
all  the  wilder  and  softer  influences, — were  contending  in 
this  untutored  breast,  and  she  fancied,  correctly  enough, 
that  if  Clare  were  to  appeal  to  him  in  this  mood,  were  to 
take  him  cleverly,  if  indeed  it  was  worth  her  while  to 
use  cleverness, — for,  ah,  was  it  worth  her  while  ?  Gladys 
asked  herself, — she  might  discover  that  Keith's  infatua- 
tion for  Miss  Lawford,  as  well  as  his  evil  tempers,  were 
all  part  of  a  perverted  longing  for  sympathy,  and  of  a 
perverted  love  for  herself. 

Tregaskiss  caught  up  Ning,  hugging  her  with  savage 
boisterousness  :  "  That's  my  Pickaninny !  we  two  are 
going  to  stick  together,  anyhow,  aren't  we,  Pickaninny  ? 
Mummy  can  go  her  own  way  ;  it's  dad  that  Ningie  holds  on 
by  ;  she's  a  fine  plucky  one,  this  Pickaninny,  and  daddy  will 
teach  her  to  beat  them  all  on  horseback  before  she's  six 
months  older." 

"  Daddy,"  said  Ning,  seizing  her  opportunity,  "  mummy 
wouldn't  let  me  ride  toBrinda;  and  mummy  says  I  mustn't 


POOR  MRS.   CARMODY.  299 

go  when  we  have  the  picnic  to  Lake  Eungella.  Mummy 
says  that  wild  blacks  sit  down  Eungella.  That  mum  kill 
Ningie.  Mine  think  it  mummy  say  that  because  she  no 
want  Ningie  to  go.  Poor  Ning  ! "  and  the  child  put  on 
her  appealing  face.  "Plenty  that  fellow  want  to  goto 
Lake  Eungella.  Ning  no  frightened  of  Myall  blacks. 
That  all  gammon — no  blacks  ;  only  fairies  and  princes 
and  nice  people.  Daddy  said  so.  Do,  promise  !  please, 
daddy,  promise  that  Ning  shall  ride  to  Lake  Eungella." 

"  All  right,  by  Jove  !  Daddy  promises.  Ning  shall  ride 
to  Lake  Eungella,  whether  mummy  agrees  or  not — though," 
he  added,  "  there  isn't  much  prospect  of  that  picnic  com- 
ing off  yet  awhile,  I  fancy." 

"  Ning,"  said  Mrs.  Hilditch  later,  "you  are  your  father's 
child."  ~ 

"  Yes,"  averred  Ning  placidly,  "  I  daddy's  Pickaninny." 

"Ning,  you  are  a  humbug  ;  you  are  a  time-server  ;  you 
are  a  traitress  ;  and  listen  to  this  :  we  are  not  going  to 
Lake  Eungella." 

Whereupon  Ning  was  silent  ;  and  for  some  few  minutes 
ruminated.  Presently  she  looked  up  : 

"Auntie  Gladys," — that  was  what  she  had  been  told  to 
call  Mrs.  Hilditch, — "mine  want  to  ask  you  something. 
Plenty  mine  try  to  find  out." 

"  Well,  what  is  it,  Pickaninny  ?  " 

"Aunty  Gladys,  suppose  Ningie  go  bong, — I  mean  die," 
conscientiously  corrected  Ning,  "  will  there  be  any  yarra- 
man  for  me  to  ride  in  heaven,  or  only  those  two  fellow 
horses  that  took  up  Elijah's  buggy?" 

Gladys  burst  into  a  peal  of  laughter. 

"  You  are  an  imp,  Ning — a  demon.  Go  and  ask  your 
father." 

As  it  happened,  Mrs.  Tregaskiss  did  not  take  that  long 
ride  under  Geneste's  escort — he  did  not,  indeed,  go  back 
with  her  at  all,  to  Mount  Wombo.  Gladys  Hilditch  begged 

au 


300  MRS.   TREGASKISS. 

permission  to  remain  at  Darra,  instead  of  accompany- 
ing Tregaskiss  and  the  children,  and  after  the  funeral 
the  party  from  Gunna-Warra — the  clergyman  and  another 
of  the  mourning  guests  rode  with  them  thus  far — found 
her  there,  and  also  Cyrus  Chance,  whose  aid  Gladys  had 
by  some  means  invoked.  Old  Cyrus  took  botli  his  Fair 
Ines  and  the  mistress  to  Mount  Wombo  on  the  morrow. 

Geneste  remaining  at  Darra.  "  You  see  that  I  begin 
to  obey  you,"  he  whispered  to  Clare,  as  they  parted. 

Mrs.  Tregaskiss  could  not  imagine  how  it  was  that 
Cyrus  Chance,  who  never  visited  a  neighbour,  except  on 
strict  business,  should  on  this  occasion  have  taken  it  into 
Ids  head  to  pay  a  friendly  call  at  Darra.  Gladys  might 
have  enlightened  her,  and  so  might  a  certain  black  boy  of 
the  camp,  where  Mrs.  Hilditch  had  been  amusing  herself  for 
an  hour  or  two  the  day  before.  The  black  boy  bought  a 
new  set  of  mole-skins  and  a  red  flannel  shirt,  and  got 
well  drunk,  on  the  strength  of  "  that  budgery  fellow 
White  Mary's"  liberality. 


CHAPTER  XXV. 

THE    END    OF   THE    STEIKE. 

THE  great  fire  at  Brinda  Plains,  in  which  both  the  head- 
station  and  the  woolshed,  with  all  the  bales  of  wool  ready 
for  carting  southward,  had  been  destroyed,  created  an 
immense  commotion  in  the  district.  It  had  been  very 
cleverly  done,  so  the  authorities  agreed,  and  there  was  a 
good  deal  of  furtive  pleasantry  at  the  expense  of  Mr. 
Cusack  and  the  specials.  The  two  harmless-looking  diggers 
who  had  halted  to  give  news  of  the  dispersion  of  the 
unionist  force  had  no  doubt  themselves  been  unionists  in 
disguise,  and  had  imposed  upon  the  police  by  the  very 
staleness  of  the  trick,  too  obvious  to  be  suspected  as  a 
ruse.  Of  course,  they  had  taken  advantage  of  the  relaxa- 
tion of  discipline  in  the  watching,  and  of  the  roystering 
that  evening  at  the  bachelors'  quarters,  which  had  inclined 
the  specials  and  gentlemen  defenders  to  a  sleep  heavier  than 
usual — in  order  to  steal  under  cover  of  the  moonless  night 
round  the  head-station  and  fire  it  in  the  two  most  conve- 
nient places.  Then,  when  all  hands  were  engaged  in 
battling  with  that  conflagration,  the  incendiaries  had  com- 
pleted their  business  by  starting  a  second  at  the  woolshed, 
and  had  then  made  away  into  safe  biding  as  speedily  as 
they  could. 

For  three  weeks  and  more  after  poor  Mrs.  Carmody's 
death,  nothing  was  heard  in  the  district  but  rumours  of 
warlike  operations,  of  pursual,  discovery,  and  arrest,  most 
of  which  rumours  were  unfortunately  not  corroborated. 
The  police  scoured  the  country  in  all  directions  ;  the 

301 


302  MRS.   TREGASKISS. 

squatters  turned  out  to  assist  them,  and  a  fresh  force  of  spe- 
cials was  enrolled  and  sent  up.  The  specials  were  in  these 
days  quite  a  feature  of  the  neighbourhood  ;  they  did  not 
spend  all  the  time  in  the  saddle.  There  were  off  days  and 
days  and  nights  of  watching  and  precaution,  so  that  the 
smart  gray  uniforms  were  to  be  seen  at  many  a  dinner-table, 
and  at  many  an  impromptu  dance,  while  the  gray  felt  hats, 
picturesquely  turned  up  at  one  side,  became  pretty  gener- 
ally adorned  with  the  black  and  red  cockatoo  head  feather, 
which  it  was  the  fashion  for  the  Leura  young  ladies  to 
present  to  their  gallant  defenders,  whom,  however,  fate 
perversely  defrauded  of  any  opportunity  of  proving  their 
valour  on  a  battlefield. 

For  the  unionists  skulked  and  would  not  fight.  Kelso, 
their  leader,  knew  the  district  better  than  either  squatters 
or  soldiers,  with  the  exception,  perhaps,  of  Geneste,  and  led 
the  pursuing  force  a  devious  dance,  by  dry  water-courses, 
through  country  which  that  invincible  enemy,  thirst,  at 
last  compelled  them  to  evacuate.  It  was  to  Geneste  that 
the  glory  of  capturing  Kelso  was  due.  The  old  lion  roused 
up,  and  the  ex-explorer  did  a  ride  and  led  a  piece  of  tracking 
said  to  be  unparalleled  in  the  Australian  record  of  criminal 
hunts.  Then  there  was  a  short,  sharp  tussle  with  desper- 
ate men;  shots  were  fired;  one  of  their  number  killed,  and 
Geneste  himself  slightly  wounded.  Finally,  Kelso  and  one 
or  two  others  of  the  ringleaders  were  arrested.  The  mob 
listened  to  terms  formulated  by  a  committee  of  squatters, 
and  peace  settled  once  more  on  the  Leura.  It  was  after 
Christmas  that  all  this  happened,  and  in  the  meantime 
Gladys  Hilditch  had  found  plenty  of  opportunity  for 
acquiring  information  concerning  the  labour  movement  in 
Australia.  But  Gladys'  interest  seemed  to  have  curiously 
died  out  since  the  fire  at  Brinda  Plains.  She  had  got  very 
silent,  and  spent  a  good  deal  of  time  in  dreamy  reverie. 
Sometimes  she  was  a  little  irritable,  and  sometimes  she 
looked  very  sad. 


THE  END  OF  THE   STRIKE.  303 

There  had  been  a  week  or  two  in  which  she  was  almost 
perfectly  happy,  a  sort  of  after-glow  following  upon  that 
divine  moment  when  she  had  awakened  in  the  garden  to 
find  herself  lying  upon  Blanchard's  arm,  with  Blanchard's 
face  bent  over  her  in  agonised  tenderness,  and  passionate 
words  of  love  pouring  from  his  lips.  He  had  called  her 
"  Gladys,"  his  "  dearest,"  his  "  love  ";  had  entreated  her  for- 
giveness, and  in  the  broken,  incoherent  sentences,  which  it 
was  bliss  to  her  to  hear,  had  wiped  out  the  doubt,  the  pain, 
and  the  vain  regret  of  those  four  years  which  had  passed 
since  Ironside's  death  put  a  tragic  end  to  their  intimacy. 
Then  she  had  opened  her  eyes,  and  they  had  met  his,  and 
she  knew  that  he  must  have  read  in  them  all  that  in  her 
dazed  condition  she  could  not  speak.  The  awakening  had 
been  so  strange  she  had  fancied  at  first  that  it  was  a 
dream  ;  then  she  heard  the  shouts  round  her,  the  sound  of 
falling  timber,  saw  the  red  glare,  realised  that  she  was  in 
her  nightdress,  drenched  with  water,  and  had  gone  off  into 
peals  of  hysterical  laughter. 

Mrs.  Cusack  had  come  to  her,  and  they  carried  her  into 
one  of  the  outhouses,  and  by  and  by  Clare,  agitated  and 
hysterical  too,  had  helped  her  to  dress,  and  by  this  time 
the  head-station  was  a  smouldering  mass,  and  all  the  force 
of  the  station  had  collected  at  the  workings  in  a  futile 
attempt  to  save  the  woolshed.  Blanchard  had  gone  with 
the  rest,  and  she  had  never  seen  him  since.  The  next  da}^ 
when  everything  was  over  and  the  Cusacks  were  mourn- 
fully taking  stock  of  the  ruins,  she  was  told,  just  before  the 
start  to  Darra,  that  he  had  hurt  himself  in  trying  to  save 
some  horses  confined  in  a  shed  at  the  back  of  the  wool- 
shed.  It  was  nothing  serious,  Geneste  had  pronounced,  but 
he  had  been  ordered  to  keep  quiet,  and  the  order  remained 
in  force  till  Tregaskiss  and  the  Brinda  buggy  had  set  off, 
the  last  having  been  delayed.  Gladys  had  bitter  suspicion 
later  that  he  had  wished  to  avoid  her,  but  it  was  not  till 
the  strike  was  over,  and  there  was  nothing  to  hinder  him 


304  MRS.   TREGASKISS. 

from  ridirig  over  to  Mount  Wombo,  that  she  acknowledged 
to  herself  the  suspicion. 

In  the  excitement  and  scurrying  about  the  country  after 
the  fire,  personal  drama  seemed  pretty  much  at  a  standstill. 
Tregaskiss  went  out  with  the  specials, — his  physical  courage 
was  his  best  point, — and  it  was  probably  to  his  daring  and 
animal  vigour  that  he  owed  such  influence  as  he  possessed 
over  a  certain  type  of  woman.  After  the  fire  he  was 
away  from  Mount  Wombo,  off  and  on,  for  some  time,  Mr. 
Hansen  being  recalled  from  the  out-station,  and  Shand 
taking  charge.  Station  work  was  put  aside  everywhere 
just  now.  The  district  had  not  got  over  the  effects  of  the 
strike  ;  the  Cusack  family  was  occupied  in  mourning  its 
losses  and  in  plans  for  rebuilding.  '  Mr.  Cusack's  anger 
expending  itself  in  frenzied  trips  to  the  Ugandan  police 
station,  and  in  the  direction  of  his  "  free "  labour  men, 
whom  he  employed  in  collecting  building  material,  while 
Mrs.  Cusack,  with  her  characteristic  energy,  set  to  work 
remodelling  the  bachelors'  quarters  as  a  temporary  resi- 
dence, the  young  men  having  established  themselves  in 
some  of  the  huts.  In  all  these  weeks,  Geneste  had  rigor- 
ously abstained  from  seeing  Clare.  She  heard  of  his  doings, 
of  his  part  in  the  capture  of  Kelso,  his  accident,  whicli  like 
most  casualties  gained  in  the  reporting,  and  she  suffered 
untold  agonies  of  anxiety,  and  of  longing  to  see  him  and 
assure  herself  that  all  was  well.  She  had  not  expected  that 
he  would  accept  her  prohibition  so  literally ;  she  had 
fancied  that  at  least  he  would  write  ;  that  he  would  implore 
her  to  reconsider  her  decision ;  that  he  would  express  regret 
for  that  mad  proposition  of  flight,  and  renew  his  vowa  of 
platonic  friendship.  She  hoped  in  spite  of  herself  that  he 
would  disobey  her, — for  he  had  made  no  definite  promise, — 
and  one  day  appear  at  Mount  Wombo.  He  did  not  write  ; 
he  did  not  come.  The  days  dragged  on,  and  perhaps  it 
was  well  for  her,  and  for  Gladys,  too,  that  there  was  work 
to  be  done,  and  that  life  was  full  just  now  of  minor  priva- 


THE  END  OF  THE   STRIKE.  305 

tions.  The  mosquitoes  swarmed,  milk  began  to  fail,  there 
was  no  butter.  Even  the  Chinaman  found  a  difficulty  in 
keeping  his  garden  watered,  and  in  producing  the  melons 
and  pumpkins  which  made  dinner  not  an  empty  mockery. 
The  baby  got  a  skin  eruption,  and  was  cross  with  her  first 
tooth,  and  Gladys  was  flagging  in  spirits  and  did  not  now 
extol  the  picturesqueness  of  the  Leura.  No  one  came 
to  Mount  Wornbo,  except  once  the  objectionable  Mr. 
Micklethwaite  on  his  way  back  from  that  very  droving 
trip  which  had  brought  him  near  Mrs.  Tregaskiss  at  The 
Grave.  Clare  made  some  whimsical  reflections  upon  work- 
ings of  coincidence  and  of  the  law  of  causes  in  the  spiritual 
region.  But  for  that  ill-bred  speech  of  Micklethwaite's 
she  might  never  have  betrayed  her  secret  misery  to 
Geneste.  The  hour  would  have  passed,  and  he  might,  as 
even  he  had  said  the  other  day,  be  now  Helen's  promised 
husband.  She  was  tormented  in  these  weeks  of  apparent 
desertion  by  jealousy  of  Helen,  which  she  felt  to  be  ignoble. 
She  fancied  that  Geneste  had  ceased  to  love  her,  and  that 
his  errant  fancy  had  returned  to  Helen.  Poor  woman  ! 
she  found  no  comfort  in  despising  him. 

She  had  told  herself  that  it  was  not  likely  he  should 
think  so  much  of  her  while  the  district  was  perturbed  by 
the  strikers  ;  but  now  that  scare  was  over,  all  the  squatters 
had  settled  down  to  their  ordinary  avocations,  and  it  might 
be  supposed  jthat  he  too  had  resumed  his  former  interests. 
She  did  not  suspect  him  of  a  deliberate  scheme  to  test  his 
influence,  based  upon  scientific  and  philosophic  observation 
of  woman's  nature. 

If  this  were  so,  he  miscalculated  his  strength,  though  it 
would  be  truer  to  assume  that  he  was  actuated  by  motives 
less  unworthy  than  any  such  cold-blooded,  selfish  design, 
and  that  he  manfully  struggled  against  an  ever  present 
temptation. 

Even  when  temptation  became  opportunity,  he  strug- 
gled still.  It  presented  itself  in  the  shape  of  a  letter  from 


308  MRS.   TREGASKISS. 

Mrs.  Cusack,  begging  that  she  miglit  now  take  advantage 
of  the  proposal  he  had  made  just  after  the  fire  and  with 
which  Mrs.  Carmody's  deatli  had  interfered,  and  that  he 
would  receive  the  two  girls  in  the  schoolroom,  Helen,  and 
Miss  Lawford  for  a  week  or  ten  days,  while  the  bachelors' 
quarters  was  being  papered  and  their  rooms  had  to  be 
vacated. 

The  suggestion  that  Mrs.  Tregaskiss  and  Mrs.  Hilditch 
should  be  invited  to  Darra  at  the  same  time,  came  as  well 
from  Mrs.  Cusack,  though  on  receipt  of  her  letter  the 
temptation  had  taken  shape  in  his  mind.  Geneste  had 
ridden  over  from  Darra,  in  answer  to  the  letter,  that  he 
might  give  a  warmer  and  personal  endorsement  to  the 
invitation,  and  they  were  seated  after  luncheon  in  the 
veranda  of  the  bachelors'  quarters,  which  commanded  a 
now  melancholy  prospect  of  the  back  garden  and  old  en- 
trance to  The  House,  of  which  the  new  foundations  were 
rising  from  its  charred  ruins. 

"Ah  ! "  sighed  Mrs.  Cusack,  "  it  upsets  me  to  look  at  that. 
And  just  think  of  what  my  garden  and  the  tennis  ground 
will  be,  when  those  workmen  have  done  trampling  on 
them.  Upon  my  word  !  I  could  cry  for  hours  over  our 
misfortune, — though  of  course  it's  an  alleviation  that  the 
company  bears  part  of  the  expense  of  rebuilding, — if  I 
didn't  force  myself  to  think  of  those  poor  Carmodys,  and 
to  remember  that  his  loss,  poor  man  !  is  worse  than  mine. 
To  be  sure,  if  we  hadn't  been  burned  out,  they  would 
have  been  the  gainers,  foi*,  of  course,  I'd  have  had  all  the 
children  over  on  a  long  visit, — I  hear  they're  running  quite 
wild, — and  Miss  Lawford  might  have  taken  Jennie  at 
lessons  with  Tottie  and  Minnie." 

"  Well,  there's  room  for  her,  too,  at  Darra-Darra,  Mrs. 
Cusack,  if  you  like  to  arrange  it  so,"  said  Geneste. 

"Well,  I  don't  know,"  answered  Mrs.  Cusack  uneasily; 
"I  think  I'd  better  not  begin,  since  one  doesn't  feel  cer- 
tain how  long  it  might  last.  The  truth  is,  Dr.  Geneste," — 


THE  END  OF  THE   STRIKE.  307 

and  she  looked  round  to  assure  herself  that  the  governess 
and  children  were  out  of  earshot,  and  at  the  same  time 
cast  a  disapproving  glance  at  Tregaskiss,  who,  while  lie 
smoked  and  conversed  perfunctorily  with  Helen,  was  edg- 
ing toward  the  "schoolroom  end"  of  the  veranda,  pre- 
sumably waiting  for  the  emergence  of  Miss  Lawford  and 
her  pupils, — "  the  truth  is,"  continued  Mrs.  Cusack,  "  that 
if  I  saw  a  decent  excuse  for  sending  off  Miss  Lawford,  I 
should  take  it.  Unluckily,  we  bound  each  other  to  a  year's 
engagement  :  we  thought,  you  know,  she  might  find  the 
bush  dull — so  many  of  them  do.  But  she  has  grown  so 
flighty  and  queer,  and  so  up  and  down  in  her  spirits,  that 
I  don't  consider  her  a  good  companion  for  my  girls.  And 
I  must  say,"  she  added  severely,  "  I  think  a  certain  gentle- 
man is  much  too  fond  of  going  home  this  way  from 
Ugandan, — which  is  a  great  deal  further  round, — instead  of 
taking  the  short  cut  by  the  surveyor's  camp.  I'm  not 
one  to  suppose  there's  any  harm  in  an  innocent  flirtation, 
and  Mrs.  Tregaskiss  herself  don't  seem  to  mind  it,  but 
still — I  don't  intend  to  encourage  it.  I  did  hope  that  Miss 
Lawford  would  take  up  with  that  old  land  commissioner, 
who  is  quite  '  gone '  on  her,  even  now,  and  he'd  make  her 
a  very  good  husband.  But  it  doesn't  seem  to  come  to 
anything,  and  the  way  she  treats  him  is  a  shame.  I  had 
to  give  her  a  talking  to  the  other  day  for  making  game  of 
him,  as  she  does,  before  everybody." 

Mrs.  Cusack  rattled  on  for  some  time  upon  the  subject  of 
Miss  Lawford's  delinquencies,  then  suddenly  exclaimed  : 
"  lie's  sure  to  be  making  excuses  for  going  over  to  Darra- 
Darra  while  she's  there,  and  I'll  tell  you  what  you  might 
do,  Dr.  Geaieste.  Mrs.  Tregaskiss  and  Mrs.  Hilditch  were 
to  have  stayed  with  you  before  :  I  should  feel  much 
more  comfortable  if  you  had  them  now." 

"  I  don't  know  that  Mrs.  Tregaskiss  would  care  to  come," 
said  Geneste  evasively ;  "  she  is  always  very  busy  at 
home." 


308  MRS.   TREGASKISS. 

"  A  groat  deal  too  busy.  I  consider  it  scandalous  the 
way  he  keeps  her  without  proper  white  servants,  while  lie 
is  going  in  for  mining  shares  and  pitching  money  about  at 
Uganda)), — I  know  it  for  a  fact, — and  she  who,  whatever 
sort  of  rogue  her  father  might  have  been,  was  used  to  some- 
thing very  different.  Don't  you  agree  with  me  ?" 

"  Mrs.  Tregaskiss  doesn't  complain,"  answered  Geneste. 

"No  ;  I  admire  her  for  that.  But  now,  look  here,  Dr. 
Geneste  !  Why  shouldn't  you  get  up  that  Lake  Eungella 
picnic  we've  been  talking  about  for  so  long  ?  Though 
the  weather  is  hot,  one  feels  it  less  riding,  and  it's  nice 
and  dry  for  camping  out.  Helen  is  tremendously  keen 
upon  it,  and  so  is  young  Gillespie,  and  so  was  Mrs. 
Hilditch.  I  think  the  district  ought  to  try  and  make  Mrs. 
Hilditch's  visit  a  little  more  agreeable, — such  a  pretty 
woman  ! — and  if  she  does  lose  her  money  by  marrying 
again,  she  might  save  first  out  of  her  income,  you  know.  I 
wish  there  was  a  chance  for  my  Martin — he's  awfully  struck, 
I  can  tell  you.  Now,  do  him  a  good  turn,  Dr.  Geneste,  and 
get  them  to  come  over." 

"  Well,  I  will  do  my  best." 

"  That's  right.  I'm  not  sure  that  I  shan't  try  the  picnic 
myself.  I  don't  think  my  riding  days  are  quite  over  yet. 
They  tell  me  Lake  Eungella  is  a  sight,  and  you'll  never 
manage  the  trip  if  you  don't  do  it  now,  before  the  rainy 
season." 

"  Do  you  think  we  shall  have  a  rainy  season  ?" 

"  Well,  it  doesn't  look  like  it — worse  luck  !  But  one 
goes  on  hoping,  and  when  it  does  come,  there  '11  be  floods, 
and  no  mistake.  That's  the  way  in  Australia,  waste  or 
famine.  Mr.  Cusack  says  that  if  the  drought  doesn't  break 
up,  it  '11  mean  the  ruin  of  every  station  with  a  heavy  debt 
on  it.  I  tell  Mr.  Blanchard  that  will  be  his  time  to  invest." 

"Blanchard  had  better  keep  his  eye  on  Darra-Darra,  if 
he  is  looking  out  for  an  investment." 

"  Why,  I  know  that  Darra-Darra   has  got  nothing  of 


THE  END  OF  THE  STRIKE.  309 

a  debt !  You  don't  mean  that  you  are  thinking  of 
selling  ?  " 

"  It  is  not  so  very  unlikely.  I  feel  as  though  I  ought  to 
go  back  and  have  another  try  at  the  old  country,"  he  re- 
plied vaguely. 

That  was  how  the  report,  which  reached  Clare  a  few 
days  later,  was  started.  Mrs.  Cusack  told  the  people  at 
Brinda  that  she  had  it  on  Geneste's  own  authority  he  was 
going  shortly  to  sell  Darra  and  settle  again  in  England, 
and  Mr.  Micklethwaite  carried  it  to  Mount  Wornbo. 

"Well,  what  do  you  think  about  the  picnic  ?"  continued 
Mrs.  Cusack.  "  Come  over  here,  Nell,  and  persuade  Dr. 
Geneste.  We  all  want  to  be  cheered  up  after  the  fire  and 
the  strike. .  I  don't  think  she  is  looking  herself,  is  she, 
now  ?  " 

"  I  am  quite  well,"  declared  Helen,  growing  red. 

"  Well,  my  dear,  there's  no  disgrace  in  it.  Now,  just  go 
and  settle  with  Mr.  Tregaskiss  at  once,  doctor,  and  then 
write  a  note  to  his  wife.  You  can't  get  out  of  it.  Martin 
has  set  his  heart  on  taking  Mrs.  Hilditch,  and  he'll  get  the 
picnic  up  if  you  don't,  and  you  are  bound  to  have  the 
whole  lot  of  us  for  a  night  at  Darra-Darra,  anyhow.  I'll 
send  along  a  pack-horse  with  cakes  and  jam  and  goodies." 

"  Would  you  like  it  ?  "  asked  Geneste  of  Helen. 

"  Very  much,  indeed  !  " 

"  And  shall  I  write  to  Mrs.  Tregaskiss  and  ask  her  ?  I 
haven't  seen  her  since  poor  Mrs.  Carmody's  funeral." 

"Of  course  we  could  not  go  without  her  and  Mrs.  Hil- 
ditch," said  Helen. 

Tottie  and  Minnie  came  out  of  the  schoolroom  and 
were  wild  with  delight  at  the  prospect.  Tregaskiss  joined 
in.  Of  course  it  was  the  very  time  for  a  spree.  Every- 
body had  been  in  the  dumps  long  enough.  They'd 
make  a  big  affair  of  it — the  whole  strength  of  the  three 
stations.  It  wasn't  such  a  bad  riding  track,  and  he  knew 
of  a  splendid  place  for  a  camp.  Of  course  they'd  take 


310  MRS.   TREGASKISS. 

their  guns  and  have  some  sport  with  pelicans.  And  then, 
Geneste  had  never  given  a  house-warming  ;  and  here  was 
an  opportunity  for  entertaining  the  district  before  the 
last  batch  of  specials  went  away.  There  should  be  a 
dance  at  Darra-Darra.  Oh,  he'd  answer  for  his  wife.  Of 
course  she  and  Mrs.  Hilditch  would  be  there  ;  no  doubt 
they'd  stay  the  week,  if  Geneste  liked.  Only  he  must  bar- 
gain for  Ning:  he  had  promised  the  Pickaninny  that  when- 
ever that  picnic  came  off  she  was  to  ride  to  it.  By  Jove  I 
she  was  going  to  be  a  magnificent  horsewoman,  that  kiddie. 
Her  mother  didn't  approve  of  her  being  out  on  the  run: 
said  it  would  spoil  her  complexion  ;  make  her  back  crooked 
— some  rot  of  that  sort.  He  intended  that  the  girl  should 
grow  up  a  sensible,  strong  woman,  and  none  of  your  weedy, 
sickly  creatures.  Fortunately  she  had  inherited  his  consti- 
tution. He  had  just  broken  in  a  filly  for  her — quiet  as  a 
spaniel,  and  paces  that  he'd  wager  Cusack  couldn't  beat  in 
all  his  famous  breed,  and  so  on.  As  for  himself,  he  had 
been  planning  mustering  that  end  of  the  run,  and  would 
begin  next  week.  He'd  be  camped  close  to  Darra  and 
would  drop  in  and — jocularly  to  Minnie — see  how  they 
were  getting  on  at  lessons. 

Mrs.  Cusack  interrupted  him  severely.  "  Now  look 
here,  Mr.  Tregaskiss,  I  think  you  had  much  better  begin 
mustering  at  the  other  end  of  your  run  first,  and  I  dare 
say  Mr.  Cusack  will  lend  you  a  hand  or  two  if  you  want  it. 
And  mind,  I'm  going  over  to  take  command  at  Darra- 
Darra,  since  Dr.  Geneste  hasn't  got  a  lady  of  his  own,  and 
I  warn  you  that  I  shall  decline  to  receive  you  unless  you 
bring  Mrs.  Tregaskiss  and  Mrs.  Hilditch.  I  don't  approve 
of  these  gay  bachelor  outings  of  yours,  and  I  don't  believe 
in  the  Ilgandah  business  either." 

Geneste  did  not  write  at  once  to  Mrs.  Tregaskiss.  Keith 
went  home  that  evening  and  told  his  wife  and  Mrs.  Hil- 
ditch that  the  Cusacks  and  Geneste  were  getting  up  a 
picnic  to  Lake  Eungella,  and  two  days  later  one  of  the 


THE  END  OF  THE  STRIKE.  311 

Cusack  boys  arrived  with  the  same  intelligence,  supple^ 
mented  by  that  additional  piece  of  news  about  Geneste's 
contemplated  abandonment  of  the  Leura. 

Mrs.  Tregaskiss  received  it  impassively,  but  she  made 
an  excuse  presently  to  leave  the  veranda  where  they  were 
all  sitting. 

"  What  has  become  of  Mr.  Blanchard  ? "  asked  Mrs. 
Hilditch  irrelevantly,  as  soon  as  she  and  Martin  were 
alone.  "Why  doesn't  he  come  over  here?" 

"Oh,  the  bishop?  He's  in  the  dumps — like  the  rest  of 
us.  We  all  hate  being  turned  out  of  quarters  ;  and  we 
are  cursing  the  unionists  all  day  and  all  night, — mostly 
night,  when  we  are  camping  out  looking  for  timber  for  the 
new  woolshed,  and  the  mosquitoes  have  got  their  nippers 
into  us.  My  word,  Mrs.  Hilditch  !  you  should  feel  the 
mosquitoes'  nips  out  by  Brigalow  Creek." 

"I  feel  them  quite  enough  here,  thank  you,"  replied 
Gladys.  "  I'm  beginning  to  get  very  tired  of  the  Leura, 
Mr.  Martin,  and  you  may  tell  Mr.  Blanchard  so.  I  shall 
go  back  to  England  unless  you  do  something  at  once  to 
amuse  me;  you  may  tell  Mr.  Blanchard  that,  too." 

"  Oh,  but  there's  the  picnic  !  "  blurted  Martin  ;  "  and 
Geneste  has  half  promised  that  we  may  have  a  dance 
before  the  specials  leave  altogether,  and  you'll  come  to 
that,  Mrs.  Hilditch  ?  " 

"  Dr.  Geneste  hasn't  asked  us  yet ;  I  presume  that  he 
intends  to.  Nobody  except  Mr.  Chance  has  been  near  us 
for  ages.  Never  in  my  life  have  I  been  so  neglected. 
I'm  obliged  to  feed  my  vanity  on  the  compliments  I  get 
from  the  blacks'  camp  ;  you  know,  Mr.  Martin,  *  Budgery 
White  Mary,  that  fellow  ! '  becomes  monotonous  after 
you  have  heard  it  a  good  many  times.  Suppose  you  were 
to  try  now  and  give  me  a  change." 

Poor  Martin  got  very  red  and  rubbed  his  forehead  with  his 
silk  pocket-handkerchief,  becoming  more  con  fused  still  when 
he  perceived  that  half  of  it  had  been  torn  off  for  crackers. 


312  MRS.   TREGASKISS. 

"  I  wish  you'd  teach  me  how  to  make  crackers,5'  said 
Gladys.  "  And  look  here,  Mr.  Martin,  I  want  you  to  take 
a  message  from  me  to  Mr.  Blanchard.  Tell  him  that  I 
particularly  wish  to  see  him  before  I  go  back  to  England. 
Tell  him  that  I  shall  expect  to  meet  him  at  Dr.  Geneste's 
picnic.  Tell  him  that  I  want  to  ask  him  what  he  would 
like  me  to  say  to  his  people  about  him.  Do  you  under- 
stand?" 

"  Yes.  I  say,  Mrs.  Hilditch,  is  it  true  that  Blanchard's 
relations  are  great  swells  ;  and  that  they've  cut  him  be- 
cause he  got  into  a  mess  or  something  ?  I  shouldn't  have 
thought  he  was  the  sort  of  chap  to  get  into  a  mess.  His 
cobra  is  chock  full  of  notions  about  what  is  right  to  do 
and  what  isn't.  Perhaps  you  don't  know  that  cobra  is 
blacks'  language  for  skull,  do  you  ?  " 

"  Yes,  I  do.  Ning  taught  me  that,  and  I've  been  learn- 
ing at  the  camp.  Now,  go  on." 

"Well,  is  it  true?" 

"Whether  his  relations  are  swells?  Yes,  I  suppose 
you'd  call  them  swells.  His  cousin  is  Lord  Somebody, 
and,  as  he  has  no  children,  the  chances  are  Mr.  Blancbard 
may  be  Lord  Somebody,  too,  some  day."  * 

"  Oh,  I  say  !  " 

"  You  won't  chaff  him  so  much,  now.  I  did  think  Aus- 
tralians were  above  that  sort  of  snobbishness,  but  you're 
as  bad  as  the  worst  of  us  over  there." 

Martin  looked  abashed.  "  You  seem  to  get  huffy  if  I  ask 
you  anything  about  Blanchard,  so  I  won't  talk  about  him." 

"  No,  don't !  Yes,  do  !  Tell  me  what  you  do  when  you 
are  camping  out.  Is  he  good  company  ?  " 

."First  rate,"  rejoined  Martin,  "when  the  mater  is  not 
by  to  chaff  him  ;  it's  the  mater  and  the  old  man  who  are 
worst  at  it,  and  he  always  dries  up  when  they're  by.  But 
you'd  really  be  surprised  at  the  lot  Blanchard  has  got  in 
his  cobra." 

"Should  I?"  said  Gladys  sarcastically. 


THE  END  OF  THE  STRIKE.  313 

"  My  word,  yes  !  He  lets  you  know  he's  about  when  it's 
a  case  of  doing  anything  solid,  or  getting  the  rights  off  a 
chap.  You  should  have  heard  him  taking  a  rise  out  of 
Tummeril,  the  government  geologist." 

"  That  must  have  been  very  interesting  ;  I  should  like  to 
hear  about  that." 

"  Old  Tummeril  was  out  prospecting,  and  he  picked  up 
a  bit  of  burnt  earth — the  stuff  you  know  that  cakes  up  in 
a  hollow  tree  after  the  blacks  have  set  fire  to  it.  'That's 
volcanic  lava,'  says  Tummeril.  '  No,'  says  the  bishop,, 
'it's  burnt  stump.'  'What  do  you  know  about  it?' 
says  Tummeril.  '  I  tell  you  it's  volcanic  lava.'  '  Burnt 
stump,'  says  the  bishop,  and  he  stuck  to  it,  and  burnt 
stump  it  proved  to  be.  Old  Tummeril  looked  green,  I  can 
tell  you.  These  geologist  fellows  seem  to  know  precious 
little  about  their  business,"  sapiently  concluded  Martin. 

Then  Mrs.  Hilditch  artfully  led  the  youth  on  to  tell 
her  more  anecdotes  about  Blanchard,  and  on  the  whole 
enjoyed  the  hour  she  spent  with  him  on  the  veranda  more 
than  she  had  enjoyed  anything  during  the  last  three  weeks. 
And  meanwhile,  Clare  Tregaskiss  was  stretched  upon  her 
bed,  the  pillow  stuffed  into  her  mouth,  and  her  whole 
frame  convulsed  with  tearless  sobs.  What  was  she  to  do? 
How  was  she  to  get  rid  of  the  pain  ?  How  was  she  to 
fight  this  awful  thing  which  had  taken  possession  of 
her  ?  How  was  she  to  separate  herself  from  him  ?  How 
was  she  to  conquer  this  love  which  was  stronger  than 
anything  else  in  the  universe,  except  two  little  helpless 
babes  ?  Oh,  if  it  were  but  possible — if  only  those  two 
small  creatures,  who  dragged  at  her  and  held  her  from 
him,  had  no  existence,  then  what  bliss  to  do  what  he 
asked  of  her — to  yield  up  her  life  into  his  keeping. 


CHAPTER  XXVI. 

AT    DAEEA-DARRA. 

GENESTE'S  letter  of  invitation,  when  Jemmy  Rodd 
brought  it,  was  friendly,  and  formally  cordial,  and  conveyed 
little  satisfaction  to  Mrs.  Tregaskiss.  It  had  only  two 
sentences  of  balm  :  "  I  hope  that  you  will  come.  I  have 
been  wishing  very  much  that  I  might  go  and  see  you." 

Clare  was  in  the  mood  for  heroism,  born  of  a  passionate 
self-disgust,  and  her  refusal  would  have  been  more  than 
probable  but  for  three  compelling  reasons,  outside  her  own 
unquenchable  longing.  Tregaskiss  insisted,  Gladys  in- 
sisted, and  Ning  insisted.  So,  with  a  guilty  joy  in  her 
heart,  and  a  great  dread,  she  packed  her  saddle-bags, — for 
they  were  to  ride  to  Darra-Darra  in  view  of  the  camping- 
out  expedition  afterward, — and  sent  a  message  to  Mrs. 
Ramm,  fortunately  still  camped  between  the  two  stations, 
begging  her  to  come  over  and  take  care  of  the  baby  for 
four  days. 

Darra-Darra  station  ran  into  the  hilly  country.  The 
head-station  was  situated  on  the  very  border  of  the  plain, 
on  a  sharply  projecting  knoll,  two  sides  of  which  sloped 
gently  downward,  while  the  other  descended  abruptly  to 
the  level,  presenting  a  sparsely  wooded  precipice,  and  thus 
giving  the  place,  from  a  distance,  almost  the  appearance 
of  a  fortification.  The  usual  lagoon  lay  at  the  foot  of  this 
knoll,  and  grape  vines  and  recently  planted  fruit  trees,  as 
well  as  some  older  ones,  ran  down  to  it.  On  a  barren 
patch  of  the  mound,  along  the  cliff,  grew  several  weird- 
looking,  twisted,  and  blackened  grass  trees,  which  Geneste 

314 


AT  DARRA-DARRA.  315 

had  wisely  allowed  to  remain.  The  house  was  low,  like  all 
Australian  houses,  and  zinc-roofed,  with  deep  verandas.  It 
consisted  of  two  buildings,  the  new  stone  rooms  of  which 
Geneste  had  boasted,  and  the  original  cottage,  dilapidated 
and  almost  covered  with  creepers.  Besides  these,  there 
were  the  kitchen  and  the  various  outbuildings.  Behind 
rose  the  lowest  spurs  of  the  range  which  had  to  be  crossed 
before  Eungella  Lake  could  be  reached,  and  in  front 
stretched  the  brown,  ocean-like  plain.  The  whole  place, 
from  its  position,  was  peculiar  and  picturesque. 

A  number  of  people  on  horseback  met  the  Tregaskiss 
party  when  it  was  within  a  mile  or  two  of  the  station. 
These  were  Helen  Cusack, — looking  fresh  and  dainty  in  her 
holland  riding-habit  and  frilled  sunbonnet, — her  two  sisters, 
their  unbound  manes  flowing  out  as  they  cantered  along, 
Miss  Lawford,  Martin  Cusack,  and  Geneste.  There  were 
the  conventional  salutations  and  a  mingling  of  partiex,  in 
a  straggling  line,  tilt  the  paddock  slip-rails  were  passed 
through  ;  then  a  dropping  into  twos,  Martin  Cusack  and 
Gladys  leading.  It  was  natural  that  Mrs.  Tregaskiss  and 
her  host  should  pair.  Ning,  on  the  quiet  filly  which  Tre- 
gaskiss had  broken  for  her,  dragged  by  her  mother's  side, 
more  tired  with  her  twenty  miles'  ride  than  she  would  own, 
and  put  a  slight  restraint  on  the  conversation. 

Clare's  gray  veil  was  raised,  and  Geneste  scanned  her 
features. 

"You  are  looking  very  unwell,"  he  exclaimed.  "Have 
you  been  fainting  again  ?  Yes  ;  you  need  not  equivocate. 
I  know  that  you  have." 

"  It  was  not  a  bad  attack.  I  did  not  mean  to  equivocate. 
The  heat  upset  me,  and  baby  has  not  been  well  ;  and  things 
have  been  generally  trying." 

"  Do  you  know,"  he  asked  abruptly,  "  that  it  is  just  six 
weeks  since  Mrs.  Carmody's  funeral  ?  " 

"  Yes." 

"  Six  weeks  in  which  I  have   not  heard  vour  voic«  or 
21 


316  MRS.   TREGASKISS. 

looked  on  your  face,  or  had  a  line  of  your  handwriting. 
It  was  cruel  not  to  give  me  a  word." 

"  You  never  wrote  to  me." 

"I  beg  your  pardon.  I  wrote  you  many  letters,  but  I 
never  sent  one  of  them." 

"Ah!     Why?" 

"  I  was  afraid  that  perhaps  I  had  said  in  them  what 
might  offend  you." 

She  was  silent. 

"  Well,"  he  said,  "  I  have  obeyed  you." 

"  Yes,"  she  answered. 

"  Surely  'thou  shall  praise  me  to-day,  O  Caesar ! '  Have 
you  no  commendation  for  me  ?  " 

"  I  can't You  know "      She  broke  off.     "  Have 

you — have  you  seen  much  of  the  Cusacks  ?  " 

"  I  have  been  over  pretty  often.  Helen  and  Miss  Law- 
ford  are  staying  here,  while  they  are  doing  up  the  quarters 
over  there ;  with  Martin  coming  backward  and  forward, 
and  Tottie  and  Minnie  to  preserve  the  proprieties." 

Tregaskiss  called  out  to  Ning  : 

"  Pickaninny,  there's  a  log  for  you  !  Come  and  show 
Miss  Lavvford  how  I  have  taught  you  to  jump." 

The  child  drew  back  ;  Clare  and  Geneste  did  not  wait. 
They  were  now  alone. 

"  Clare  !  "  he  cried,  "  you  have  been  very  unhappy  ?  " 

"  That  is  true,"  she  replied.  "  Why  do  you  torment 
me  ?  Why  will  you  not  let  us  be  friends  ?  " 

"I  torment  you  !  Yes,  my  dear," — his  whole  manner 
changed  to  that  winning  way  which  was  so  sweet  to  her, — 
"  let  us  be  friends.  I  think  in  truth  we  must  have  been 
enemies  during  these  long  six  weeks — these  interminable 
weeks." 

"  Tell  me,"  she  asked,  "  is  it  true  ?     I  heard  through  the 
Cusacks,  as  a  fact,  that  you  are  going  soon  to  sell  Darra, 
and  leave  the  Leura." 
."  We  talked  of  it,  do  you  not  remember  ?    Under  certain 


AT   DARRA-DARRA.  '  317 

conditions  I  think  it  is  more  than  probable,  but  I  have 
made  no  plans." 

"  Under  certain  conditions  !  "  she  repeated,  a  terrified 
note  in  her  voice. 

He,  wilfully  misinterpreting  it,  exclaimed  : 

"  Don't  be  afraid.  I  shall  ask  no  more  impossibilities  ; 
but,"  he  added  in  a  lower  tone,  "  you  must  not  expect 
impossibilities  from  me." 

They  reached  the  entrance,  and  he  became  again  the 
courteous  host.  After  tea  had  been  taken  in  the  veranda, 
and  the  dusk  was  falling,  and  it  became  a  question  of 
allotting  rooms  to  the  guests,  Geneste  turned  to  Helen,  not 
realising  the  subtle  and  intense  bitterness  there  was  to 
Clare  in  his  manner  of  so  doing. 

"  You  and  Mrs.  Cusack  settled  things  so  that  Mrs.  Tregas- 
kiss  would  be  as  comfortable  as  she  could  be  in  my  bachelor 
diggings,"  he  said.  "  Mrs.  Cusack  has  deserted  us,"  and  he 
now  looked  at  Clare.  "She  said  that  we  should  not  want 
a  chaperon  now  you  were  here  ;  and  she  was  afraid  the 
men  would  put  up  the  wrong  paper  at  Brinda.  We've  had 
to  give  up  the  notion  of  the  ball,"  he  added,  as  they  walked 
along  the  veranda;  "it  was  too  ambitious,  and  we  were 
afraid  it  would  prevent  the  ladies  from  being  fresh  for 
Eungella.  Besides,  there  were  difficulties  about  music,  as  I 
haven't  got  a  piano.  However,  Martin  discovered  a  fiddle 
among  the  free  labourers  at  the  workings,  and  Blanchard 
is  corning  over  later  with  the  performer  in  charge  ;  so 
perhaps,  after  all,  we  may  manage  a  very  humble  'hop' 
for  the  children." 

He  bowed  at  the  door  of  a  room  in  the  stone  building 
and  left  them.  Helen  stood  back  for  Mrs.  Tregaskiss  to 
enter. 

"  Oh,  he  has  given  me  up  his  own  room  ! "  Clare  said, 
and  her  bitterness  all  went  away  ;  he  had  reserved  this 
compliment  for  her,  though  after  all  it  was  the  most 
natural  .thing  in  the  world.  She  knew  that  it  must  be  his 


318  MRS.   TREQASKISS. 

room  from  the  books  and  photographs  and  personal  belong- 
ings. Woman-like,  she  took  note  of  all  the  little  niceties. 

"  He  would  not  hear  of  anything  else,"  answered  Helen. 
"He  wanted  to  give  it  up  to  mother,  but  she  liked  best  be- 
ing with  me  in  my  room.  Mother  thought,  Mrs.  Tregaskiss, 
that  you  and  Mrs.  Hilditch  and  Ning  could  manage  with 
this  litcle  dressing-place,  as  the  place  is  all  rather  crowded, 
and  that  Mr.  Tregaskiss  would  be  more  comfortable  in  the 
bachelors'  quarters  with  the  other  gentlemen." 

Gladys  was  herself  again  ;  and  yet  not  herself.  For  the 
first,  since  her  coming  among  them,  she  put  on  a  black 
dress,  and  it  seemed  to  sober  her,  and  invest  her  somehow 
with  a  certain  tragic  dignity.  It  was  a  black  dress  the 
like  of  which  had  never  been  seen  upon  the  Leura — all  soft, 
dark  filminess  and  indescribable  folds,  through  which  her 
white  neck  gleamed,  and  out  of  which  emerged  her  bare 
round  arms,  with  queer-looking  bracelets  clasping  them 
above  the  elbow.  Beside  her,  Miss  Lawford's  costume  of 
net  and  bugles  and  crimson  satin  ribbon  looked  tawdry, 
and  its  wearer  vulgar.  Ambrose  Blanchard  watched  Mrs. 
Hilditch  as  she  came  along  the  veranda,  her  delicate,  proud 
face  and  golden  head  rising  out  of  the  blackness  of  her 
gown,  and  thought  of  old  Cyrus  Chance's  name  for  her — 
"Fair  Lies";  thought  of  Felmarshes,  and  of  her  beauty 
and  sweetness  and  passionate  disdain  of  the  sordid  banal- 
ities of  her  life,  in  those  early  days,  when  she  had  been  the 
ideal  lady  of  his  dreams.  She  had  seemed  to  him  then  a 
being  too  refined,  rare,  and  exquisite  for  even  the  common- 
place magnificence  which  surrounded  her — a  sort  of  queen 
who  should  just,  by  right  of  nature,  possess  everything  that 
gold  could  buy,  and  yet  despise  it,  as  queens  ought  to  de- 
spise their  material  state  and  appanage.  But  deprived  of 
the  state  and  appanage,  how  could  she  exist?  She  was 
poor  now,  in  comparison  with  her  former  wealth.  After  all, 
five  thousand  a  year  is  not  such  a  tremendous  income, 
though  for  a  solitary  woman  it  means  power  to  indulge  in 


AT  DARRA-DARRA.  319 

all  manner  of  luxuries.  He  shuddered  as  he  felt  himself 
assailed  by  a  fiercer  temptation  than  any  which  had  ever 
visited  him.  Could  he  be  so  selfish  and  cowardly  as  to  take 
advantage  of  this  beautiful  Quixotic  being,  who,  some- 
thing told  him,  would  sacrifice  readily  for  his  sake  all  the 
advantages  of  her  position,  and  condemn  her  to  a  lifetime 
of  hardship,  and  probably  of  disillusion. 

Gladys  went  straight  up  to  him  and  held  out  her  hand. 
She  had  schooled  herself,  while  she  was  dressing,  to  the 
meeting. 

"You  have  not  given  me  an  opportunity  of  thanking 
you  for  having  dragged  me  out  of  that  dreadful  burning 
room,"  she  said  quite  conventionally.  "I  hope  Mr.  Martin 
gave  you  my  message." 

"Martin  told  me  you  were  good  enough — that  you  wanted 
to  see  me,"  he  stammered.  "  I  am  sorry  not  to  have  been 
able  to  come  over  ;  but " 

"  Blanchard,  will  you  give  Mrs.  Hilditch  your  arm  ?  "  said 
Geneste,  passing  on  with  Mrs.  Tregaskiss. 

The  dinner  was  a  little  constrained  :  the  party  was  not 
large  enough  for  collective  hilarity,  or  for  confidential 
duologue  ;  and  the  conversation  was  mainly  about  the 
road  to  Eungella  Lake  :  the  chance  of  rain  in  the  hills 
having  swelled  the  lake,  or  of  the  drought  having  dried 
it  up,  so  putting  the  mirage,  which  was  what  everybody 
wanted  to  see,  out  of  the  question.  Of  course,  too, 
there  was  a  good  deal  of  talk  about  the  strike,  and  the 
rebuilding  of  The  House,  and  other  local  topics  ;  but  it 
was  all  more  or  less  forced.  Almost  all  present  were  pre- 
occupied with  their  individual  anxieties — except,  indeed, 
the  three  or  four  bushmen  :  Martin,  Mr.  Shand,  and  some 
others,  among  them  a  late  arrival  from  the  Gulf  district, 
who  had  wonderful  tales  about  alligators  and  cannibal 
blacks  and  other  horrors,  to  the  edification  of  Ning  and 
the  younger  Cusack  girls.  Their  end  of  the  table  was  very 
cheerful,  but  at  the  other,  Geneste  and  Mrs.  Tregaskiss 


320  MRS.   TREGASKISS. 

said  little,  having  always  the  shadow  between  them  of 
crisis  and  perhaps  tragic  separation.  Gladys  and  Mr. 
Blanohard  were  oppressed  with  a  sweet  and  terrifying  agi- 
tation, and  Helen  Cusack,  thrilled  with  something  of  the 
martyr's  enthusiasm  of  renunciation,  was  yet  nervously 
eager  to  avert  the  declaration  which  she  knew  young 
Gillespie  was  going  to  make  her,  while  Tregaskiss,  in  his 
rude  fashion,  had  his  own  doubts,  bewilderments,  and 
emotions  of  various  kinds.  In  his  breast  surged  unwonted 
feelings  ;  he,  too,  was  suffering  the  education  of  pain.  He 
felt  anger,  jealousy,  miserable  dissatisfaction  with  himself 
and  with  all  the  world,  restless  hunger  for  he  scarcely  knew 
what — his  wife's  affection  or  a  more  potent  excitement ; 
and  the  reckless  resolve  to  still,  at  any  cost,  the  vague 
remorse  which  was  tormenting  him.  In  an  odd,  intuitive 
way  he  divined  something  in  his  wife's  nature  which  had 
never  been  there  before  these  days — something  which  was 
not  for  him,  and  had  never  been  for  him,  and  which  was 
worth  a  million  times  more  than  the  passive  obedience,  the 
half  reluctant  acceptance  of  caresses,  that  represented  all  tlie 
love  she  had  ever  given  him.  It  angered  him  that  the  best 
of  his  own  possessions  should  be  but  a  shadowy  possession — 
a  right  in  name  and  not  in  fact ;  and  though  he  could  not 
define  his  jealousy  of  Geneste,  could  not  make  out  to  himself 
any  statement  of  injury,  did  not  suspect  his  wife  of  the 
least  dereliction  from  the  path  of  wifely  honour,  the  con- 
ciousness  of  a  wrong  was  always  with  him,  and  it  goaded 
him  to  seek  sources  of  distraction,  one  of  which,  at  any  rate, 
was  fairly  effectual.  In  truth,  of  late  intemperance  had 
become  so  much  a  habit  with  poor  Keith  Tregaskiss,  that 
though  he  never  openly  disgraced  himself,  he  was  yet  never 
wholly  himself.  Perhaps  Miss  Lawford's  state  of  mind 
would  bear  an  even  less  close  analysis. 

"  Will  you  come  and  look  at  my  curios  and  Egyptian 
things?  "  Geneste  said  to  Mrs.  Tregaskiss,  when  dinner  was 
over,  and  the  party  had  dispersed,  some  to  the  garden  to 


AT  DARRA-DARRA.  321 

gather  loquats  and  Cape  mulberries  ;  others  to  lounge  and 
smoke  and  chatter  about  the  veranda  and  steps  ;  and  the 
children  and  their  traveller  from  the  Gulf  to  start  a  game 
of  romps  by  moonlight.  The  dance  had  fallen  through, 
after  all.  Martin's  tiddler  having  been  found  to  have 
"  gone  on  the  spree." 

"I  am  not  very  sorry,"  said  Geneste.  "I  want  you  all 
to  be  as  fit  as  you  can  be  for  the  ride  to-morrow." 

He  had  taken  her  into  what  he  called  "  the  office,"  which 
was,  however,  very  different  from  the  usual  station  office — 
a  receptacle  for  stockwhips  and  guns,  and  a  place  in  which 
to  keep  the  ledgers.  Geneste's  office  was  lined  with  books, 
and  had  comfortable  armchairs  and  some  prettinesses ;  it 
was,  in  fact,  where  he  spent  most  of  his  time  indoors. 
She  looked  round  it,  examining  the  books  and  taking  stock 
of  everything,  as  a  woman  does  of  the  place  inhabited  by 
the  man  she  cares  for. 

He  drew  a  chair  forward  and  arranged  the  lamp. 

"  Sit  here,  and  I'll  put  the  things  on  this  table  for  you  ; 
there's  nothing  really  to  look  at, — only  a  few  odds  and 
ends, — and  it  was  an  excuse  to  bring  you  away." 

He  unlocked  some  drawers  and  brought  out  coins  and 
scarabei  and  odds  and  ends,  mostly  barbaric,  from  different 
countries  he  had  visited.  She  examined  the  collection 
almost  in  silence,  and  he  talked  only  conventionalities, 
telling  her  anecdotes  about  his  little  properties  and  how  he 
had  acquired  them.  Suddenly  she  swept  the  whole  subject 
away,  as  it  were,  with  a  wave  of  her  hand,  and  got  up, 
standing  in  front  of  the  open  door,  which  gave  upon  a 
quiet  corner  of  the  garden.  The  weird-looking  grass  trees 
were  silhouetted  against  the  sk}',  and  beyond  stretched 
the  great  shadowy  plain.  To  Clare  that  vast  expanse  of 
dead  level  meeting  the  sky  was  like  the  wall  of  a  gigantic 
prison. 

"  How  can  you  endure  to  stay  in  this  awful  place,"  she 
exclaimed,  "  when  you  have  the  whole  world  before  you  to 


322  MRS.   TREGASKISS. 

choose  from,  and  when  you  know  what's  best  in  it  to 
choose — not  like  Martin  Cusack  and  Mr.  Shand  and  the 
others,  who  let  their  lives  rust  out  from  sheer  ignorance  ?  " 

He  had  risen  and  followed  her. 

"  I  have  sometimes  asked  myself  that  question,"  he  said. 

"Then  go,"  she  said  passionately,  "  and  let  us  have  done 
with  this.  In  good  truth,  it  is  too  hard  for  me  to  bear.  I 
was  better  off  in  the  old  lonely  life  than  now,  when  I 
am  tossed,  torn,  tortured,  and  self-hating.  I  think  I'd 
rather  be  buried  alive  straight  away,  and  have  the  stone 
shut  down  upon  me  past  all  hope,  than  live  on  in  the  agony 
I've  been  enduring  these  last  weeks.  Oh,  if  I  were  in  your 
place  I  wouldn't  bear  it  either !  No  woman  is  worth  all 
that.  See  what  I  am  making  you  suffer  now,  by  my  moods 
and  my  complaints,  but  I  can't  help  it ;  I  can  only  say  to 
you,  Go ! " 

He  came  a  little  closer,  and  would  have  answered  her 
recklessly  with  an  embrace,  but  she  made  an  imperious 
gesture. 

"No!  Yes,  of  course,  I  know  that  you  would  say: 
that  you  are  not  unhappy  as  long  as  we  can  be  together 
— unless  you  have  changed  to  me  and  have  taken  me  at 
my  word  and  put  Helen,  in  my  place,  as,  Heaven  help 

me!  I  have  been  madly  fancying  of  late No,  you 

haven't,  I  know,  but  it  makes  no  difference.  We  can't  be 
together  !  I  daren't  let  you  come  near  me,  and  say  all  the 
things  that  are  so  sweet.  I  dare  not !  I  dare  not !  that  is 
the  truth.  And  so  you  had  better  go.  Oh,  if  I  were  but 
a  man,  and  could  escape  as  you  might  do  !  If  I  could  just 
break  from  everything  and  roam,  and  roam,  and  never 
come  back  again." 

Her  voice  dropped  in  a  long  cadence  like  the  beat  of  a 
wild  bird's  wings,  and  she  made  a  motion  with  her  arms 
which  reminded  him  of  that  moment  of  self-abandonment 
at  The  Grave,  and  touched  him  with  something  of  her 
own  despair. 


AT   DARRA-DARRA.  323 

"Clare,"  lie  cried,  "you  talk  as  if  we  couldn't  help  our- 
selves, as  though  we  were  bound  by  some  grim  fate  to 
torture  ourselves  and  each  other.  And  it  isn't  so.  The 
whole  thing  rests  with  you.  If  you  choose  you  can  break 
away  from  everything  and  we  will  roam — and  roam 
together." 

Again  she  silenced  him  by  that  quick  gesture,  and  he 
remained  waiting,  not  daring  to  say  more  till  she  should 
speak,  or  at  least  look  at  him.  But  she  did  neither  ;  only 
leaned  her  head  wearily  against  the  lintel  of  the  door  and 
looked  out,  her  eyes  seeming  to  pierce  through  far-reach- 
ing vistas,  her  chin  slightly  raised,  and  every  feature  rav- 
aged by  the  spiritual  combat  within  her.  He  stood 
watching  her,  no  less  moved,  but  perfectly  still.  There 
was  nothing  in  the  attitude  of  either  to  rouse  suspicion  in 
an  observer's  mind  of  anything  strained  or  unusual  in 
their  relation,  but  there  was  much  in  the  expression  of 
their  faces. 


CHAPTER  XXVII. 

"  YOU    MAKE    ME    HATE   YOU  !  " 

BOTH  Clare  and  Geneste  had  forgotten  that  their  posi- 
tion in  the  lighted  room  made  them  an  easy  target  for 
observation  from  the  dim  garden,  or,  if  the  passing  thought 
had  occurred  to  Geneste  When  they  came  in,  he  dismissed 
it,  remembering  how  little  frequented  was  that  bit  of 
the  garden.  As  it  happened,  however,  Tregaskiss  had 
strolled  hither  with  his  pipe,  and  that  moment  came 
within  eye-range  of  the  office  door.  He  had  wanted  to 
escape  some  disagreeable  close  questioning  of  the  Gulf 
traveller  about  a  northern  gold  mine,  in  which  he  had 
been  interested  to  a  greater  -extent  than  he  wished  people 
to  know,  for  it  had  turned  out  a  bubble.  Moreover,  lie 
had  other  and  more  unpleasant  matters  to  ponder,  for 
just  before  leaving  Mount  Wombo  he  had  received  a  letter 
from  the  manager  of  his  bank,  informing  him  of  the  im- 

o  *  o 

pending  visit  of  an  inspector  to  report  on  the  security , 
Mount  Wombo  now  offered  for  the  debt  and  increasing 
overdraft.  He  had  been  nursing  his  irritation  till  it  had 
become  smouldering  fury,  and  the  scene  which  he  surprised 
was  like  a  match  set  to  inflammable  material.  He  had 
been  looking  for  Clare,  in  order  that  lie  might  tell  her  this 
piece  of  bad  news,  and  thus  vent  some  of  his  annoyance, 
and  he  had  been  much  displeased  at  the  arrangement 
which  located  him  among  the  bachelors,  far  from  her. 
Now  he  had  found  her,  but  not  listless  and  indifferent,  as 
he  had  expected,  but  alive  and  quivering  with  some 
strange  and,  for  the  moment  to  him,  incomprehensible 
emotion.  He  had  never  seen  the  shadow  of  such  a  look/ 

824 


"YOU   MAKE  ME  HATE   YOU!"  325 

upon  her  face  before.  The  light  fell  full  upon  her,  and 
he  could  read  every  lineament.  It  seemed  to  lift  her  to  a 
region  far,  far  away  from  the  hardships  and  worries  of 
their  common  lot.  She  would  not  care,  he  told  himself 
bitterly,  if  he  were  ruined  to-morrow — or  killed,  for  that 
matter.  She  was  absorbed  by  some  overmastering  feeling, 
of  which  he  had  no  knowledge,  which  had  nothing  to  do 
with  him  or  her  married  life.  He  at  this  moment  was  no 
more  to  her  than  the  dust  she  might  shake  off  her  feet. 
What  did  it  mean  ?  What  had  happened  to  her  ?  Then 
he  caught  sight  of  Geneste,  too,  and  the  whole  thing 
flashed  upon  him,  and  in  a  second  he  was  given  the  key 
to  much  that  during  all  their  life  together  had  irked  and 
puzzled  him  in  Clare,  and  that  of  late  had,  in  a  manner 
for  which  he  could  hardly  account,  stirred  up  the  brute 
and  the  devil  in  himself.  Her  stillness,  her  coldness,  her 
apathy,  the  queer  notions,  as  he  called  them,  conveyed  to 
him  more  by  her  reserve  on  some  topics  than  by  actual 
words,  and  which  had  made  him  call  her  "  uncanny," — 
everything  in  her  that  had  baffled  him  and  had  made  him 
feel,  in  a  dull  way,  that  his  marriage  was  an  incomplete 
thing, — seemed  to  become  clearf  revealed  in  those  two 
faces.  Clare  had  never  cared  for  him  ;  she  had  always 
despised  him,  and  she  had  only  kept  silence  and  pretended 
to  be  loyal  as  long  as  she  despised  everybody  else  on  the 
Leura,  since  she  considered  no  one  worthy  of  being  her 
confidant.  But  Geneste  was  different.  From  the  first  he 
had  seen  that  she  was  trying  to  prove  to  him  how  supe- 
rior she  was  to  her  husband  and  to  her  surroundings — 
exalting  herself  at  his  (Tregaskiss')  expense.  He  had 
formerly  derived  a  certain  satisfaction,  mingled  with  his 
discontent,  at  her  aloofness.  If  she  were  cold  and  odd  at 
times  to  him,  she  was  disdainful  to  everybody  else  ;  and, 
at  any  rate,  this  implied  the  possession  of  a  superfine  arti- 
cle, of  which  he  was  undisputed  master  and  might  claim 
all  the  glory.  But  now  he  realised  that  he  was  not  Clare's 


326  MRS.  TREGASKISS. 

undisputed  master  ;  that  someone  else  had  the  power  to 
lift  her  out  of  her  stately,  impassive  self  ;  that  her  whole 
being  was  in  rebellion  against  him,  and  that  she  held  him 
in  contempt, — there  was  the  sting  to  Tregaskiss, — despised 
his  manners,  his  want  of  intellectuality,  even  his  physi- 
cal strength  and  comeliness  ;  and  sometimes,  when  he 
had  bragged  about  her  to  Geneste,  as  was  a  way  of  his, 
Candaules'  fashion,  Geneste  no  doubt  laughed  at  him  in 
his  sleeve.  Tregaskiss  writhed  at  the  thought,  knowing 
well  how  Clare  felt.  Tregaskiss'  jealousy  was  not  of  the 
ordinary  conjugal  kind.  In  a  curious  way,  he  had  been 
pleased  that  Geneste  should  admire  Clare,  should  even  fall 
in  love  with  her  ;  that  was  a  tribute  to  himself.  It  was 
of  his  power  and  prestige  that  he  was  jealous,  and  he  was 
more  bitter  against  Clare  than  against  Geneste.  Some 
two-edged  remarks  that  Geneste  had  incautiously  made  to 
him  ;  certain  sayings  of  the  Cusacks  and  of  Miss  Lawford, 
which  he  had  not  made  much  of  at  the  time,  but  which 
had  festered  nevertheless,  came  back  and  strengthened 
his  case  against  his  wife.  She  was  making  him  the 
laughing-stock  of  the  district.  This  was  the  meaning  of 
all  that  dangling  at  Mount  Wombo — "  sentimentality  and 
rot,"  as  he  put  it — at  the  time  of  her  attack  of  fever, 
which  he  had  not  believed  in.  Geneste  was  in  love  with 
his  wife.  No  doubt  he  had  told  her  so.  Now  Tregaskiss 
said  to  himself  that  he  understood  the  cessation  of  inti- 
macy during  these  last  weeks.  There  was  no  doubt  that 
Clare  had  a  sentimental  fancy  for  the  man, — her  face 
told  him  that, — but  no  doubt,  too,  she  had  gone  into 
heroics  and  mounted  her  virtuous  horse  and  sent  him 
away.  That  would  be  like  Clare.  She  would  do  her 

duty,  and,  he  added,  in   a  sort  of  sotto  voce,  be  "  d d 

unpleasant  "  about  it.  She  was  not  the  woman  to  go  off 
the  rails  ;  she  had  not  the  temperament.  Tregaskiss 
argued  upon  his  own  experience  of  the  limitations  of  her 
temperament,  as  husbands  who  consider  their  wives  be- 


"YOU   MAKE  ME  HATE  YOU!"  327 

yond  temptation  are  wont  to  do.  It  was  very  curious 
how,  in  all  bis  anger  and  jealousy,  be  never  suspected  bis 
wife  or  Geneste  of  any  serious  lapse  from  rectitude.  In- 
deed, their  impeccability,  as  he  believed  it,  roused  more  of 
the  wicked  feelings  in  him.  In  a  perverse  way,  be  could 
have  found  in  their  strayings  justification  for  his  own 
deviation  from  the  straight  path.  In  that  mood  of  his  be 
would  have  been  glad — and  yet  the  thought  was  hell — of 
a  legitimate  outlet  for  all  morbid  passions  that  swelled 
in  him. 

But  there  was  nothing — no  reasonable  excuse  for  rush- 
ing in  and  assaulting  Geneste,  if  he  had  been  so  minded. 
Besides  he  was  a  coward,  and  cowards  always  prefer  to 
bully  a  woman.  The  two  stood  apart  ;  they  had  not  even 
touched  hands  ;  there  was  nothing  to  betray  them  but  their 
faces,  hers  with  that  wonderful  emotion  transfiguring  it  : 
passion,  longing  disgust,  unutterable  weariness  of  the  very 
air  she  breathed,  and  of  the  great  plain  which  was  her 
prison — that  was  how  he  interpreted  it,  with  a  more 
correct  divination  than  might  have  been  expected  of  him, 
and  Geneste's,  no  less  full  of  agitation,  and  telling  of  a  con- 
flict which  Tregaskiss  read,  according  to  his  interpretation 
of  things,  as  the  struggle  of  rebuffed  desire.  Of  course 
Clare  had  rebuffed  him.  Tregaskiss  could  imagine  the 
pleading  and  the  answer,  but  the  pleadin-g  had  stirred  in 
her  a  consonant  chord  of  passion. 

"  Infernal  puppy  !  "  muttered  Tregaskiss,  and  yet  his 
distorted  notion  of  revenge  fixed  itself  upon  Clare,  and 
not  upon  the  man,  with  whom,  in  truth,  he  had  something 
of  the  man's  sympathy — upon  Clare,  in  whose  innocence 
he  nevertheless  firmly  believed.  What  right  had  she  to 
be  setting  herself  up  above  everybody  else — giving  herself 
confounded  airs  of  superiority  and  sneering  at  other 
women  who  were  human  ?  He  remembered  a  look  across 
the  dinner-table — a  glance  only — which  he  had  intercepted 
on  its  way  to  Miss  Lawford.  He  made  a  step  forward, 


328  MRS.   TREGASKISS. 

with  the  bald  intention  of  confronting  the  two,  calling  her 
out  to  him,  and  proving  his  ownership.  Then  a  change 
of  attitude  in  the  man  he  was  watching  arrested  him. 
Geneste  said  something  to  Clare  in  a  low  voice, — Tregas- 
kiss  could  not  hear  the  words, — and  she  had  turned  and  had 
answered  him  hurriedly,  it  seemed  entreatingly.  And  then 
Geneste  had  quietly  left  her,  closing  the  door  behind  him. 

It  was  not  much  of  a  scene  on  which  to  build  a  tragedy. 
What  had  really  happened  just  then  was,  as  Tregaskiss 
conjectured,  that  Geneste  had  become  aware,  somehow,  of 
his  presence  in  the  garden,  and  had  begged  Clare  to  return 
with  him  to  the  veranda,  and  she  had  bidden  him  leave 
her  till  she  could  face  the  others  more  composedly.  She 
moved  from  the  window,  and  stood  by  the  table  on  which 
the  curios  were  still  spread  out.  She  could  hear  her  hus- 
band's step  now  scrunching  the  gravel,  though  she  was 
not  certain  that  it  was  he.  At  any  rate,  she  was  not  going 
to  fly  away,  like  a  frightened  schoolgirl,  and  so  waited  for 
him  till  he  had  reached  the  log  steps  that  led  straight 
into  the  garden.  Tregaskiss  stood  there  a  moment,  and 
took  his  pipe  out  of  his  mouth,  shaking  a  shower  of  red 
ashes  to  the  ground.  "  I  want  to  speak  to  you,"  he  said. 

She  knew  by  his  voice  that  he  was  not  himself,  and 
merely  bowed  her  head.  He  stepped  into  the  room  beside 
her. 

"  Look  here  ! "  he  said  ;  "  I'll  not  have  3rou  whining  and 
complaining  about  me — making  yourself  out  an  injured 
martyr  and  me  a  brute.  Do  you  suppose  I  can't  guess 
what  you've  been  talking  about  to  Geneste — getting  him 
to  pity  you  ? — we  all  know  what  that  leads  to.  He's  in  love 
with  you — you  can't  deny  it.  Very  well,  if  it  amuses  you, 
carry  on  as  much  as  you  please,  and  take  the  consequences. 
But  don't  presume  to  find  fault  with  me,  and  don't  think 
that  I'm  going  to  be  made  a  fool  of  and  ridden  rough-shod 
over.  If  you  do,  you  are  very  much  mistaken.  Do  you 
hear  ?  " 


"YOU  MAKE  ME  HATE  YOU!"  329 

She  drew  herself  together  with  a  little  shiver,  but  did 
not  answer.  Her  silence  goaded  on  Tregaskiss. 

"  Do  you  hear  ?  "  he  repeated.  "  I  have  found  you  out  at 
last.  I  know  how  you  have  been  working  against  me — 
spoiling  my  credit  in  the  district.  Old  Cyrus  Chance  first 
— curse  him  !  Do  you  fancy  he's  going  to  leave  you  any 
money  for  it — and  the  Cusacks  and  Geneste  ?  Just  when 
I  want  to  raise  some  money  to  get  me  out  of  a  hole,  and 
keep  the  bank  from  coming  down  oh  me  !  And  then,  set- 
ting my  own  child  against  me  !  Telling  Ning  she's  not 
to  do  what  I  want.  Forbidding  her  to  go  out  walking 
with  Miss  Lawford,  making  out  that  her  father's  friends 
aren't  good  enough  for  her.  Signalling  to  her  to  come 
and  stop  by  you,  when  she  is  quite  jolly  with  Miss  Law- 
ford  and  the  rest.  You  thought  I  didn't  see  you  !  Oh,  I 
can  read  you  through  and  through  !  I  know  your  under- 
hand ways.  Too  mean  to  say  a  thing  out.  But  to  set 
the  Pickaninny  against  me  !  That  is  what  I  won't  stand. 
No,  I'm  d d  if  I  do  !  " 

"  I  have  never  done  any  such  thing,  Keith,  as  to  set 
your  child  against  you;  and  what  you  say  is  like  madman's 
talk." 

"  You'll  tell  me  I'm  drunk,  I  suppose.  That's  what  you 
are  always  insinuating.  And  you've  been  telling  Geneste 
the  same  thing — taking  away  my  character  behind  my 
back.  Will  you  swear  to  me  that  you've  never  said  a 
word  against  me  to  him  ?  Come,  you  daren't !  You  know 
that  I  could  bring  witnesses  forward  to  prove  that  you've 
belittled  me  to  the  Cusacks.  What  were  you  talking  about 
before  I  came  along  and  saw  you  both  standing  here  ? 
Will  you  swear  that  you  never  told  him,  I  drank,  and  was 
unkind  to  you  ?  Come,  answer  me  !  " 

She  made  no  reply. 

"  Answer  me  !  "  he  cried  again.  "  When  I  was  away 
that  time,  and  you  pretended  to  be  ill,  you  made  out  your 
case.  Didn't  you,  now  ?  I'm  a  brute,  and  you  are  immacu-: 


330  MRS.   TREGASKISS. 

late.  And  I  took  you  away  from  your  English  comforts 
and  grandeur.  Forced  you  to  marry  me,  eh  !  and  buried 
you  in  this  hole  of  a  district,  and  treat  you  no  better  than 
a  black  gin — don't  give  you  decent  white  servants,  that's 
your  cry  to  Mrs.  Cusack.  Oh,  I've  heard  all  about  it  ! 
When  you  know  I've  offered  you  a  proper  nurse  scores  of 
times  !  You  didn't  say  a  word,  did  you,  about  your  thief 
of  a  father  ;  didu't  tell  them  that  I  took  pity  on  you  when 
your  other  lover  cast  you  off,  and  all  your  fine  friends 
would  have  nothing  to  say  to  you  ?  Where  would  you  be 
now  if  I  hadn't  come  forward,  like  the  fool  I  was  ?  You 
didn't  despise  me  then,  nor  the  Leura  neither.  This  is  your 
gratitude,  and  you  haven't  got  a  word  to  say  for  yourself. 
You're  ashamed  to  look  me  in  the  face  !  " 

Still  she  was  silent,  but  she  made  a  movement  as  if  she 
would  have  left  the  room.  He  caught  her  arm. 

"  I  will  have  an  answer  !  By  G d,  I'll  not  have  dirt 

thrown  at  me  behind  my  back  without  punishing  you,  and 
knowing  the  reason  why  !  " 

"  You  are  hurting  me.  You  insult  me  !  Keith,  don't ! 
You  make  me  hate  you  !  " 

"  I  thought  as  much.  You've  hated  me  all  these  years, 
when  I've  been  sweating  to  get  things  for  you — loading 
you  with  kindness.  And  you've  been  working  against  me 
in  the  dark.  Poisoning  the  Pickaninny's  mind  against  her 
father  !  The  Pickaninny,  who's  the  thing  I  care  for  most 
in  the  world  !  If  it  wasn't  for  the  Pickaninny,  I'd  cut  the 
whole  concern  to-morrow  and  be  happy  in  my  own  way, 

and  let  you  go  yours  and  be  d d  to  you.  I'm  sick  of 

it  all,  I  tell  you  ;  sick  of  your  cold,  stand-off,  contemptuous 
ways.  I'm  glad  you've  spoken  out  at  last.  You  hate  me, 
do  you  ?  Very  well.  I  hate  you,  and  that's  the  honest 

truth,  and  you  may  go  to for  all  I  care  !  Get  out  of 

my  sight,  you  mean,  skulking  devil  !  " 

He  loosed  his  hold  on  her  as  he  poured  forth  the  evil 
words.  And  then,  to  the  disgrace  of  his  manhood,  poor, 


"YOU  MAKE  ME  HATE   YOU!"  331 

mad,  half-drunken  Tregaskiss  lifted  his  hand  and  struck  his 
wife.  He  had  lost  all  control  over  himself.  The  propor- 
tions of  things  were  all  clouded  and  distorted  to  his 
inflamed,  drink-saturated  brain.  Never  before  had  he 
spoken  to  her  in  this  way,  violent  as  he  had  sometimes 
been,  and  never  before  had  he  raised  his  hand  against  her. 
The  shock  of  it  seemed  for  the  moment  almost  more  than 
she  could  bear.  She  staggered  and  turned  very  white. 
The  blow  tingled  on  her  shoulder  beneath  her  thin  dress, 
and  made  a  great  red  patch  under  the  gauze.  He  looked 
at  her  for  a  second,  abashed  at  what  he  had  done,  but 
something  seemed  to  come  between  her  and  him,  and  blur 
and  blotch  her  image,  distorting  it  like  his  own  fancies  of 
her,  and  the  brute  in  him  kept  the  upper  hand. 

"  Go  and  tell  him  that,  too,  and  then  let  him  come  and 
settle  things  with  me.  I'm  ready  for  him  !  " 

"  Yes,"  she  said,  almost  in  a  whisper,  from  the  intensity 
of  her  scorn  and  hate,  "  I  will  tell  him,  and  from  to-night, 
Keith,  all  is  ended  between  you  and  me." 

She  went  past  him,  and  down  the  steps  into  the  garden, 
then  along  the  gravel  path  by  the  back  of  the  house  to  the 
end  of  the  big  veranda  from  which  her  own  room  opened. 
She  could  see  the  flutter  of  dresses  away  down  in  the  gar- 
den, and  could  hear  the  laughter  of  the  two  little  Cusack 
girls,  and  the  sound  of  Ambrose  Blanchard's  voice,  singing 
a  love  song  at  the  other  end  of  the  veranda.  The  night 
was  young  yet,  and  these  people  were  amused  and  occupied. 
It  would  be  a  long  time  before  they  thought  of  bed. 

She  crept  into  her  room.  Oh,  the  relief  of  knowing  that 
this  night,  at  least,  her  husband  would  not  share  it  with 
her.  Ning  lay  fast  asleep  in  the  stretcher  bed  that  had 
been  improvised  for  her  in  the  bathroom  adjoining,  her 
little  limbs  half  uncovered,  and  her  elfish  locks  streaming 

7  O 

about  the  pillow.  Gladys'  bed  had  the  mosquito  nets 
drawn  close,  and  was,  of  course,  empty.  Clare  determined 
that  she  would  get  into  bed  and  pretend  to  be  asleep,  so 


332  MRS.   TREGASKISS. 

that  Gladys  might  not  ask  her  questions.  She  took  off  her 
dress,  and  stood  before  the  glass  looking  at  herself — at 
her  stony  face,  in  which  the  eyes  were  like  living  things,  so 
bright  were  they,  and  at  the  cruel  red  mark  upon  the  white- 
ness of  her  neck.  The  thought  came  to  her  that  it  mifjht 

<ij  O 

be  well  Gladys  should  see  that  mark.  She  remembered 
Geneste's  suggestion  about  the  possibility  of  legitimately 
gaining  her  freedom.  But  she  dismissed  the  notion  as 
though  it  had  been  a  guilty  one.  That  would  be  mean 
indeed — at  least  so  it  seemed  to  her.  Through  all  her  out- 

O 

raged  dignity,  and  woman's  revolt  against  what  he  had 
done,  her  conscience  found  excuse  for  Tregaskiss.  He  had 
upbraided  her  coarsely,  and  in  one  sense  wrongfully,  and 
he  had  struck  her  ;  but  in  another  sense  had  she  not 
deserved  the  upbraidings,  and,  according  to  rough  and 
ready  ethics,  the  blow  ?  She  had  not  taken  her  husband's 
character  away  to  Mrs.  Cusack,  nor  had  she  ever  tried  to 
set  his  child  against  him  ;  but  had  she  not  been  false  to  her 
wifely  vow  in  a  far  worse  way  ?  Had  she  not  allowed  her- 
self to  consider  as  a  possibility — nay,  was  she  not  even  now 
almost  consenting  to  that  which  would  give  him  a  right 
to  punish  her  by  separating  her  forever  from  her  children  ? 
He  had  not  accused  her  of  the  greater  wrong  ;  he  had  had 
faith  in  her  so  far — which  was  in  its  way  noble  of  him, 
magnanimous,  and  through  everything  it  touched  her.  It 
was  for  the  paltry  ignoble  cause  that  he  had  struck  her. 
There  was  bathos  in  the  combination  of  ideas,  which  in 
spite  of  the  tragedy  of  the  situation  made  her  laugh  aloud 
in  grim  amusement. 

She  blew  out  the  light  when  she  was  in  bed,  and  lay 
quite  still,  the  moonlight  streaming  in  through  the  creepers 
which  screened  the  veranda,  and  making  a  vine-leaf  pattern 
on  the  floor.  The  bruise  on  her  shoulder  smarted,  and 
forced  her  thoughts  back,  in  spite  of  herself,  to  that  scene 
with  her  husband,  which;  as  she  went  over  and  over  it  with 
all  the  unconscious  exaggeration  of  recent  happening, 


"YOU  MAKE  ME  HATE  YOU!"  333 

seemed  to  her, — putting  aside  all  else  that  was  involved, — 
seemed  to  have  altered  the  whole  course  of  her  life. 
Never,  she  told  herself,  could  they  two  live  together  again 
in  amity,  or  even  peace.  She  was  a  woman  of  great  self- 
control,  in  the  ordinary  emotions  of  life,  slow  to  wrath,  and 
not  given  to  denunciation  or  meaningless  declaration.  She 
had  said  words  to  him  which  were,  to  her,  of  momentous 
issue,  and  which  could  never  be  unsaid.  She  had  told  him 
that  he  made  her  hate  him,  and  he,  in  return,  had  said 
that  he  hated  her.  How  could  they  pretend  any  longer? 
Whatever  happened,  those  words  would  always  come  up 
between  them  and  make  union  seem  the  more  horrible,  be- 
cause each  would  know  that  they  were  true.  For  it  was 
the  truth — it  had  always  been  the  truth.  Their  natures 
were  antagonistic  to  the  core,  and  nature  would  have  her 
way,  and  truth  would  out,  at  last,  however  rigorously  and 
however  long  it  had  been  kept  sealed  within  its  prison. 

"Yes,  I  do  hate  him,"  the  poor,  quivering  thing  whis- 
pered to  herself,  as  she  lay  huddled  up,  the  sheet  drawn 
over  her  face  to  hide  it  from  the  moonlight,  and  the  same 
fierce  feeling  of  relief  came  to  her,  in  thus  giving  vent  to 
her  secret  thought,  as  when  she  had  whispered  to  herself 
of  another  man  :  "  Oh,  I  do  love  him  !  I  do  love  him  !  " 

By  and  by  Gladys  came  in.  She  was  humming  a  little 
song, — the  one  Blanchard  had  been  singing, — in  the  way  that 
girls  do  when  their  hearts  are  light  from  the  meeting  with 
their  love.  Gladys  felt  like  a  girl  this  evening,  and  her 
heart  was  relieved  of  a  great  oppression.  She,  too,  stood 
and  looked  at  herself,  and  smiled  happily  at  her  own  image. 
There  were  no  tragic  thoughts  in  her  mind;  she  had  passed 
that  phase  of  life  ;  it  had  come  to  her  early  and  was  all 
over  now.  Clare  thought  bitterly  that  fate  had  let  off 
Gladys  easily,  but  Clare  did  not  know  that  the  burden  of 
a  man's  death  lay  upon  Gladys'  soul. 

Gladys  did  not  at  first  remember  her  friend,  so  taken  up 
she  with  her  own  pleasant  imaginings,  but  presently. 


334  MRS.  TREGASKISS. 

with  a  little  start  of  recollection,  she  turned,  and  called 
softly  "  Clare ! "  stooping  when  she  got  no  answer  and 
peering  through  the  curtains  to  satisfy  herself  that  Mrs. 
Tregaskiss  was  asleep.  She  stopped  singing,  and  moved 
about  very  quietly  in  her  preparations  for  rest.  When  the 
candle  had  been  blown  out  again,  there  was  a  silence,  and 
Clare,  opening  her  eyes,  beheld  Gladys,  sophisticated, 
cynical  Gladys,  kneeling  in  her  nightdress  at  the  side  of 
her  bed,  and  saying  her  prayers  as  humbly  as  any  innocent 
child.  The  sight  wrung  Clare's  heart  anew,  and  brought 
home  to  her,  with  a  startling  reality,  the  ghastlyjncongruity 
of  her  own  position.  Gladys  was  praying — no  doubt  for 
Ambrose  Blanchard  and  for  herself — praying  that  a  bless- 
ing might  attend  their  love,  praying  out  of  the  fulness  of  her 
heart,  and  in  the  conviction  that  there  was  nothing  in  it  un- 
worthy to  be  brought  before  the  High  Throne.  Oh,  how 
crooked,  how  wrong  it  all  seemed  !  That  Gladys  might 
thus  pray — Gladys  whom  death  had  freed,  and  that  she, 
Clare,  who  loved  no  less,  but  more  absorbingly,  and  no  less 
purely, — for  love  which  has  its  root  in  the  affinity  of  souls 
must,  she  told  herself,  be  pure, — she  who  was  separated  from 
her  husband  by  as  hideous  a  gulf  as  even  death  could  make, 
might  not  put  up  a  petition,  unless  it  were  for  strength  to 
renounce  what  seemed  then  dearer  to  her  than  heaven, 
strength  to  keep  her  true  to  what  had  become  an  unnatural 
duty.  . 


CHAPTER  XXVIII. 

"TURN   AGAIN,    FAIR    INES  !  " 

HUSBAND  and  wife  exchanged  no  word  in  private  on  the 
following  morning.  They  were  all  to  start  for  Lake  Eun- 
gella  at  ten  o'clock,  and  everybody  was  busy  preparing  for 
the  camping-out.  The  yard  was  full  of  horses,  saddles 
were  being  seen  to,  pack-horses  loaded,  valises  strapped  up, 
and  rations  given  out. 

Tregaskiss  came  in  late  for  breakfast,  and  was  met  by 
jocular  upbraiding  from  the  Gulf  traveller  for  having 
spoiled  his  night's  rest. 

"  You  never  saw  such  a  chap,  Mrs.  Tregaskiss,  for  I'm 
sure  lie  doesn't  play  on  those  larks  when  you  are  by  to  keep 
him  in  order,"  said  the  Gulf  man,  with  ill-timed  pleasantly. 
"  Backed  himself  against  each  of  us  for  a  round  with  the 
gloves  by  moonlight,  which  was  too  much  of  a  good  thing 
at  getting  on  for  morning.  We  compromised  on  break- 
downs— didn't  you  hear  us  up  at  the  house  ?  Then  I'm 
blest  if  he  didn't  start  on  the  'Sick  Stock-rider'  when  we 
were  all  ready  to  turn  in,  and  led  the  chorus  in  a  way  that 
moved  us  to  tears.  I  could  never  have  given  him  credit  for 
so  much  sentiment,  but  it  was  after  the  grog  had  been 
finished  up,  wasn't  it,  Tregaskiss?  Looks  a  bit  seedy  this 
morning,  don't  he?  I  say,  Martin,  we  shall  be  having  the 
bishop  down  on  us  for  those  break-downs." 

"The  bishop  wasn't  there,"  said  Martin.  "He  cleared 
off  to  his  own  carnp  before  we  began  to  get  rowdy.  He 
wouldn't  have  a  bunk  in  the  quarters,  Geneste,  but  said 
that  as  he  was  going  to  camp  out  to-night,  and  had  been 

835 


336  MRS.  TfcEGASKISS. 

camping  out  for  the  last  three  weeks  with  the  timber  cutters, 
he'd  as  well  not  make  a  change." 

Though  Tregaskiss  certainly  looked  haggard  and  out 
of  sorts,  he  still  seemed  in  wild  spirits.  He  laughed  and 
bragged  and  rollicked  with  Ning, — making  a  show,  which 
was  almost  ostentation,  of  his  devotion  to  the  child, — and 
except  that  he  avoided  looking  at  or  addressing  his  wife, 
no  one  would  have  suspected  from  his  manner  that  there 
was  any  family  discord. 

Helen  had  got  into  a  way  of  looking  below  the  surface 
of  things,  and  guessed  that  there  had  been  a  serious  dis- 
agreement, while  Mrs.  Hilditch  had  already  learned  that 
when  Tregaskiss  was  in  a  peculiarly  irritable  and  rasping 
humour  in  private,  it  was  his  custom  to  exhibit  in  public  a 
boisterous  geniality.  In  this  mood  Tregaskiss  seemed  to 
find  a  certain  excitement  in  making  a  quarrel  with  Ms  wife 
— he  was  like  a  dog  worrying  a  bone  in  the  way  that  he 
harped  upon  a  grievance.  His  grievances  were  always  of 
a  petty  nature — not  worth  having  a  row  about :  the  cook- 
ing of  a  dish,  the  delinquencies  of  a  black  boy  or  stockman, 
some  small  domestic  neglect,  or  a  difference  of  opinion  on 
the  subject  of  Ning's  bringing  up.  Gladys  concluded  that 
his  bone,  in  the  present  instance,  had  been  Clare's  objection 
to  the  long  ride  for  the  child.  There  had  been  some  talk 
about  it  at  dinner  the  previous  evening,  and  Geneste  had 
then  proposed  that  he  should  drive  Ning  the  first  ten  miles 
in  his  buggy,  till  the  road  became  impassable  for  wheels, 
so  that  the  day's  journey  might  be  made  easier. 

The  child,  dressed  in  her  little  riding-habit,  sat  by  her 
father's  side,  and  was  injudiciously  fed  by  him  with  all  the 
dainties  the  table  showed  forth.  Mrs.  Tregaskiss  went  to 
her  room  to  finish  her  packing,  and  though  Geneste  had 
seen  by  her  face  that  something  was  terribly  wrong,  lie 
had  no  opportunity  of  saying  a  word  to  her  before  they 
started.  Clare  was  riding  his  horse — the  one  he  had  lent 
her  for  the  ride  to  the  Carmodys*  on  that  melancholy 


"TURN  AGAIN,  FAIR  INES!"  337 

return  from  Brinda  Plains.  She  attached  herself  to  the 
Gulf  man  as  being  the  least  likely  of  the  party  to  notice 
her  altered  manner,  but  when  the  buggy  came  to  a  stop  at 
a  crossing  which  was  only  possible  on  horseback,  and  Ning 
was  mounted  on  her  filly,  the  party  reconstructed  itself. 
The  track  now  became  tortuous  and  steep,  and  the  riders 
were  obliged  to  go  in  single  file,  or  else  in  twos,  which 
often  lost  sight  of  each  other  among  the  trees.  It  was 
wild  country  through  which  they  were  passing.  A  little 
beyond  Darra  station  the  plains  had  been  left  behind,  and 
the  grassy  valleys  and  wooded  slopes,  through  which  they 
had  come  during  the  first  few  miles,  ended  when  the  buggy 
turned  back  again.  Now  they  were  among  barren  ranges, 
sparsely  timbered,  sometimes  along  a  bit  of  level  road,  or  a 
tiny  flat,  where  huge  ant-beds  of  brown  clay  were  scattered 
about  like  gigantic  heaps  of  caked  mortar  left  by  an  army 
of  departed  workmen  ;  boulders  of  rock  lying  here  and 
there,  like  rough-hewn  pillars,  helped  the  illusion.  Some- 
times they  went  by  a  shelving  siding,  with  red  cliffs  rising 
above  their  heads,  sometimes  down  a  rocky  gorge  or  the 
course  of  a  gully  where  the  long-bladed  grass  grew  rank 
and  brown,  and  sometimes  they  would  mount  a  precipitous 
incline  which  obliged  them  to  lean  forward  and  grasp  the 
horses  manes  to  keep  their  seats.  Fortunately  all  were 
good  riders,  even  Mrs.  Hilditch's  horsewomanship  being 
beyond  criticism. 

She  was  riding  a  good  way  ahead — just  behind  the 
black  boys — with  Ambrose  Blanchard.  Both  were  in  light 
vein.  Gladys'  laugh  rang  out  above  the  whirring  of  the 
locusts,  and  Ambrose  every  now  and  then  would  troll  back 
a  yodelling  note,  or  a  line  from  an  Australian  song.  These 
two  seemed  to  have  made  a  temporary  truce  with  doubt 
and  regret,  and  to  have  resolved  upon  taking  the  good  of 
to-day  without  reference  to  the  possible  ill  of  to-morrow. 
Geneste  and  Mrs.  Tregaskiss  followed  them.  Behind  came 
Helen  and  Harold  Gillespie,  and  she  was  trying  to  keep 


338  MRS.  TREGASKISS. 

Mr.  Sband  and  the  Gulf  traveller  within  earshot,  to  stave 
off  the  sentimental  interview  which  she  knew  Gillespie  had 
in  his  mind.  The  others  were  "dodging  about,"  as  Martin 
put  it,  the  little  Cusack  girls  and  the  young  men  making 
short  excursions  after  kangaroo,  jumping  convenient  logs, 
and  riding  tilt  at  hanging  blossoms,  and  otherwise  bringing 
on  themselves  the  reproach  of  taking  too  much  out  of  their 
horses.  Tregaskiss  joined  sometimes  in  the  romps,  but 
more  often  loitered  with  Miss  Lawford  in  the  rear  of  the 
rest.  He  was  smoking  continuously  all  the  time,  and  got 
off  occasional \y,  and  on  the  pretext  of  tightening  his  girths 
took  a  pull  at  his  flask. 

As  the  noonday  heat  quenched  frolicsomeness,  voices 
grew  subdued,  and  only  the  beat  of  the  horses'  hoofs 
sounded  among  the  murmurs  and  rustlings  and  whirring  of 
the  bush.  Gladys  and  Ambrose  talked  in  a  soft  undertone 
of  all  the  pleasant  things  tinder  heaven.  He  had  said  to 
her  as  yet  no  further  word  of  love,  but  she  knew  that  she 
was  forgiven  for  the  past,  and  that  her  companionship  was 
a  joy  to  him.  No  allusion  was  made  to  Felmarshes  or  to 
poor  dead  Ironside ;  a  tacit  agreement  seemed  to  have 
been  made  between  them  the  previous  evening  that  the 
past  was  to  be  buried.  Yet  now  Gladys  turned  suddenty 
to  him  and  said  impulsively : 

"Mr.  Blanchard,  will  you  tell  me  whether  you  are  glad 
or  sorry  that  I  came  out  to  Australia?" 

"  Do  you  need  to  be  told  ?  "  he  answered.  "  Don't  you 
know  that  I  shall  never  cease  to  bless  that  night  of  the 
fire  at  Brinda  Plains.  I  am  sorry  for  the  sake  of  the  corn- 
panj7,  which  will  give  fewer  dividends  this  year,  that  there 
was  a  fire,  but  I  am  wicked  enough  to  be  glad  for  my 
own." 

,  He  paused,  and  got  suddenly  red.  He  had  been  think- 
ing only  of  those  blessed  moments  when  he  had  held 
Gladys  in  his  arms,  and  poured  forth  into  her  unconscious 
ears  the  love  which  filled  his  heart.  Were  they  quite 


"TURN  AGAIN,  FAIR  INES!"  339 

unconscious  ?  He  had  fancied  a  faint  pressure  of  her  inert 
arm  that  lay  loosely  upon  his  shoulder — and  then  he 
remembered  that  he  had  had  no  right  thus  to  take  advan- 
tage of  her  helplessness,  and  added  awkwardly  :  "  I  mean 
that  I  can  never  be  thankful  enough  to  you  for  showing 
me  a  part  of  yourself  which  I  had  never  understood 
before." 

"  That  would  have  happened  just  the  same  if  there  had 
been  no  fire,"  said  Gladys,  with  some  archness  ;  "  and  the 
poor  shareholders  would  not  have  lost  their  dividends." 
Then  both  were  silent  for  a  minute  or  two,  and  then 
Gladys  began  again  a  little  tremulously :  "  You  must 
always  think  badly  of  me, — as  I  used  to  be  in  the  old 
days, — but  tell  me  that  you  won't  think  quite  so  badly  as 
you  did  before.  Tell  me  that,  at  any  rate,  you  believe 
in  my  sincerity  toward  you." 

"  I  believe  in  it  entirely,  and  I  thank  Heaven  for  it !  " 

"  We  are  friends,  then," — and  she  half  reined  in  her  horse 
and  stretched  out  her  hand  to  him  across  the  pommel  of 
her  saddle, — "  friends  as  we  used  to  say  we  meant  alwa}Ts 
to  be,  in  those  far  back  days  at  Felmarshes." 

He  took  her  hand  in  his,  pressed  and  released  it,  and 
though  he  said  not  a  word,  there  was  a  look  in  his  eyes 
which  made  Gladys'  heart  thrill. 

"  Promise  me,  then,"  she  went  on,  "  that  from  to-day 
you  will  begin  afresh  with  me,  and  that  you  will  forget 
all  the  cruel  thoughts  you  have  been  keeping  of  me  in 
these  years.  Tell  me  that  you  will  think  of  me  now  as 
one  who,  having  made  a  bad  mess  of  her  life  at  the  start, 
wants  to  try  and  make  as  good  a  thing  as  she  can  of  it  for 
the  end." 

"Don't !  "  he  exclaimed  impetuously.  "It's  hard  on  me 
when  you  know  that  I  must  always  stand  out  of  your  life, 
and  that  it  would  be  happiest  for  me  if  I  could  bring  my- 
self  never  to  think  of  you  at  all — or  only  as  a  beautiful 
dream.  The  end  !  " — and  he  gave  a  dreary  little  laugh, — 


340  MRS.  TREGASKISS. 

"  why  do  you  talk  of  the  end,  when  you  are  at  the  be- 
ginning and  have  the  whole  world  before  you,  and  every- 
thing it  can  give  you  in  your  power  ?" 

"Have  I?"  she  answered  wistfully,  and  laughing 
drearily,  too. 

"  You  have  youth,  money,  intellect,  charm,  sympath}", 
opportunity,  and — freedom.  Doesn't  that  mean  that  every- 
thing is  in  your  power  ?  " 

"  Everything  in  my  power  !  "  she  repeated.  "  Except 
the  two  things  which  at  present  I  want  most  to  be  able 
to  do." 

"  What  are  they  ?  " 

"  I  will  tell  you  one.  I  should  like  to  make  Clare 
Tregaskiss  happy." 

"Ah,  I  am  afraid,  indeed,  that  would  be  out  of  the 
power  of  anyone  but  a  magician,  unless  all  the  conditions 
of  her  life  could  be  altered." 

"  I  would  be  a  magician,  and  all  the  conditions  of  her 
life  should  be  altered.  I  would  sweep  away  everything — 
everybody.  Her  husband,  Ning,  the  baby,  the  Leura.  I 
don't  mean  that  I  would  do  anybody  any  bodily  harm.  I 
would  simply  arrange  things  so  that  nothing  of  all  that 
existed  ;  so  that  Mr.  Tregaskiss  had  never  met  Clare  and 
so  that  he  were  married  to  somebody  else  who  suited  him 
better — say  Miss  Lawford.  If  one  were  a  magician  it 
would  be  so  easy,  and  a  little  juggling  and  annihilation 
more  or  less  wouldn't  matter." 

"  If  you  swept  away  the  Leura,  as  you  say,  you  would 
be  annihilating  a  good  many  more  people  than  Keith 
Tregaskiss  and  his  children.  For  one  thing,"  he  added 
shyly,  "  you  would  be  sweeping  away — me." 

"  No,  I  should  have  worked  my  other  will  by  that  time  ; 
you  would  not  be  here." 

"Will  you  tell  me,  Mrs.  Hilditch,  what  you  would  do 
with  me  if  you  were  a  magician  ?" 
..Gladys  hesitated  and   blushed  a  little.     "If   I   were  a 


"TURN  AGAIN,  FAIR  INES!"  341 

magician,"  she  said  softly,  "  I  would  put  you  at  home 
again,  in  your  rightful  place — not  a  clergyman  ;  oh,  no, 
but  reconciled  to  your  father  and  making  a  better  sort  of 
career  for  yourself  than  helping  to  cut  down  timber  to 
rebuild  the  Brinda  Plains  Company's  woolshed  and  carry- 
ing rations  to  shearers." 

"  Perhaps,"  he  said  gently,  "  that  would  be  doing  me 
a  more  cruel  kindness  than  if  you  were  to  leave  me  here 
on  the  Leura  to  my  timber-cutting  and  ration-carrying. 
Setting  everything  else  aside,  in  England  I  should  always 
be  tormented  by  the  tantalising  vision  of  a  happiness 
which  honour,  conscience — all  right,  manly  feeling — must 
make  it  impossible  for  me  even  to  think  of." 

"Why  impossible?  If — if  one  chooses,  everything  is 
possible." 

"  You  told  me  yourself  a  moment  ago  that  your  own 
dearest  wish  was  an  impossible  one.  Gladys,"  he  cried, 
"  you  must  know  what  I  mean.  You  must  know  that  to 
see  you  free,  courted,  and  to  love  you  as  I  love  you  with 
absolutely  no  hope  of  winning  you,  would  make  life  near 
you  a  hell  to  me.  I  had  far  better  rot  my  days  out  com- 
pletely beyond  reach  of  you  on  a  Western  sheep-station. 
There  could  be  no  opportunity  then  for  jealous  longings." 

"kBut  if,"  Gladys  said  falteringly,  "  if  I  preferred  staying 
on  the  Leura,  to  going  back  to  England — if,  having  tried 
what  civilisation  and  money  and  all  the  rest  could  do 
for  me,  I  had  found  it  dust  and  ashes,  and  so  determined 
to  give  the  whole  thing  up,  and  settle  in  a  purer,  freer 
atmosphere " 

"  Oh,  yes  !  "  he  interrupted.  "Among  the  mosquitoes 
and  snakes  and  scorpions  and  blacks,  with  droughts  and 
strikes  and  fires  for  agreeable  interludes  in  the  summer 
heat !  " 

"  You  may  laugh,  if  you  please,  but  I  meant  what  I 
said  !  "  she  exclaimed  hotly.  "I  don't  mind  droughts  and 
heat  and  mosquitoes;  and  as  for  strikes  and  fires — they  are 


342  MRS.   TREGASKISS. 

very  agreeable  excitements.  Yes,  if  I  were  to  buy  a  station 
of  my  own,  I  dare  say  my  trustees  would  advance  me  the 
capital " 

"  On  your  solemn  undertaking  not  to  marry  again,"  be 
interrupted  a  second  time. 

"It  does  not  seem  tbat  I  shall  need  to  give  tb at,"  re- 
torted Gladys  bravely.  "  The  men  who  care  for  me  are 
either  too  mercenary  or  too  cowardly  to  take  me  with- 
out my  money — which  I  hate  !  "  she  added  passionately. 
"  Yes,  I  hate  it  !  I  hate  my  money.  It  has  come  to  me  in 
an  unworthy  way  ;  it  is  the  price  of  everything  that  should 
have  been  dearest  to  me — the  price  of  my  degradation.  It 
clings  to  me,  and  clogs  me,  and  prevents  me  from  throw- 
ing off  all  the  dreadful  past,  and  beginning  a  new,  good, 
happy  life,  with  no  falsehood  or  pretence — the  sort  of  life 
to  make  you  glad,  Ambrose,  that  you  have  known  me. 
Ah,  you  don't  believe  that  I  am  capable  of  living  that  life  !  " 

"I  believe  you  capable  of  everything  that  is  noble,"  he 
said  huskily. 

"  And  yet  you  won't  help  me  ;  you  let  my  wretched 
money  stand  between  us  !  " 

"  Yes,"  he  said,  shutting  his  lips  tight  for  a  moment  in 
desperate  determination,  "  your  money  stands  between  us, 
and  always  must." 

"And,"  she  went  on,  "what  shall  you  say  if  I  do  buy 
that  Leura  station,  and  plant  myself  near  you  ?  Unless 
you  run  away  to  England,  then  you  can't  put  yourself 
out  of  my  reach." 

"  It  is  not  possible  that  you  can  be  so  cruel  ?  " 

Gladys  laughed.  What  did  she  care  about  anything  in 
the  world  now  that  he  had  told  her  he  loved  her  ?  The 
rest  would  come  right,  must  come  right,  since  she  was  a 
woman  who  knew  her  power,  and  he  was  no  more  than 
human. 

At  her  laugh,  Blanchard  spurred  his  horse,  and,  pur- 
posely to  avoid  betraying  himself  further,  made  a  dash 


•TURN  AGAIN,  FAIR  IXES!"  343 

through  a  belt  of  gidia  to  where  a  native  creeper  hung  its 
wreath  of  blossoms  over  the  shattered  limbs  of  a  tree 
which  had  been  destined  by  a  stroke  of  lightning.  He 
gathered  a  bunch  of  the  flowers,  and  brought  them  back 
to  Gladys. 

"  They  are  very  sweet,"  he  said,  in  his  ordinary  tone, 
"and  not  common  about  here.  We  haven't  so  many  sweet 
smelling  things  on  the  Leura  when  the  sandal-wood  is  out 

o  o 

of  bloom.  You  will  see  that  the  vegetation  of  the  hills  is 
a  little  different  from  that  on  the  plains.  What  are  they 
shouting  about,  I  wonder  ?  "  he  added,  as  the  black  boys 
with  the  pack-horses,  who  had  drawn  up  a  little  way 
ahead,  sent  out  one  of  their  long,  peculiar  blacks'  cries. 
"I  suppose  that  we  are  in  sight  of  the  lake." 

Tregaskiss  pressed  past  them,  trotting,  leading  Ning  by 
the  bridle  rein.  The  child  was  tearful  with  fatigue. 

"  There's  a  plucky  one,  Pickaninny ! "  he  shouted. 
"  Come  along  !  we're  close  up  to  camp.  Now,  Mrs.  Hil- 
ditch,  lay  on  like  blazes  to  your  horse's  mane,  and  take  a 
lesson  from  Ning  ;  we've  got  to  get  up  to  that  place." 

"  That !  "  Gladys  looked  in  wonder  at  a  steep  ridge, 
with  a  razor-back  top  rising  quite  abruptly  from  the  more 
gentle  slope  they  had  been  mounting.  The  side  was 
almost  a  precipice,  and  gave  the  effect  of  a  natural  wall, 
blocking  their  way.  The  growth  of  stunted  gidia  parted 
below  the  cone,  and  she  saw  that  the  range  fell  awajr  on 
either  side  as  though  it  had  been  cut,  and  that  to  right  and 
left  were  deep  impassable  gorges. 

"  Are  we  at  the  end  of  the  world  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  We  are  close  up  to  the  top  of  the  range,  and  over  it  is 
the  camp  I  said  I  was  going  to  bring  you  to,"  replied 
Tregaskiss.  "  Look  out  there,  Sliand,  confound  you  !  Just 
you  take  a  back  seat  with  the  new  chums  for  a  bit.  I'm 
boss  of  this  show,  and  just  don't  any  of  you  come  in  front 
of  the  Pickaninny.  I  promised  her  that  she  should  have 
the  first  sight  of  the  lake,  and  Miss  Lawford  is  to  come 


344  MRS.   TREGASKISS. 

next  ;  and  d n  it,  I'm  going  to  keep  my  word  !  Corne 

along,  Hetty  !  " 

The  governess,  who  liad  been  following  close  behind 
Ninir,  gave  a  half-ashamed,  half-apologetic  Inugh. 

"  You  mustn't  mind  Mr.  Tregaskiss,  Mrs.  Hilditch,"  she 
said  awkwardly  ;  "  he  is  so  excited  at  having  found  such 
a  nice  camp,  that  he  has  forgotten  his  manners.  Please 
go  first." 

Gladys  reined  in  lier  horse  and  looked  at  Miss  Lnwford 
with  the  calm  air  of  aloofness,  saying  with  formal  courtesy: 
"  No,  pray  follow  Mr.  Tregaskiss." 

Miss  Law  ford  blushed  deeply,  and  gave  another  hys- 
terical giggle. 

"  Oh,  it  was  only  on  Ning's  account  that  I've  kept  for- 
ward ;  the  child  has  set  her  heart  on  getting  the  first 
sight  of  the  lake,"  she  said. 

Gladys  made  a  frigid  bow,  and  pointedly  drew  back. 
Miss  Lawford  switched  her  horse,  and  taking  a  zigzag 
line  mounted  fearlessly  after  Tregaskiss.  She  was  a  mag- 
nificent bush  rider,  and  her  little  lithe  body  swayed  with 
every  movement  of  the  animal.  Tregaskiss  turning  round, 
called  out  :  "  Well  done,  Hetty  !  "  His  rough  ejaculations, 
as  he  dragged  at  Ning's  bridle,  and  encouraged  the  filly  to 
flounder  forward,  reached  Clare  below,  as  in  some  anxiety 
she  watched  the  child's  ascent.  The  climb  was  a  stiff  one, 
and  would  have  frightened  a  timid  rider.  Helen  Cusack, 
who,  though  she  was  a  bush  girl,  had  never  gone  after 
stock,  or  sat  a  pig-jump,  far  less  a  buck-jump,  shrank  a 
little.  It  was  Geneste  who  turned  back  and,  seizing  her 
bridle,  helped  her  to  the  summit.  Mrs.  Tregaskiss,  with 
set  lips,  and  hard  eyes,  dashed  on  ;  she  was  in  the  mood 
to  ride  up  a  precipice,  without  caring  whether  the  chances 
were  in  favour  of  her  reaching  the  top,  or  being  dashed  to 
the  bottom. 

The  first  cry  of  delighted  surprise  at  the  view  below 
came  from  King  :  "  Oh,  the  sea  !  the  sea  !  "  she  called  out, 


"TURN  AGAIN,  FAIR  INES  !  "  345 

unconsciously  echoing  the  shout  of  the  Ten  Thousand. 
There  lay  the  lake,  a  great  silvery  sheet  ;  its  opposite  shore 
only  dimly  visible — a  shore  of  low,  hazy  mountains,  like 
clouds  upon  the  horizon.  A  faint  breeze  tossed  the  waters 
into  miniature  wavelets,  and  brooding  upon  them  were 
immense  flocks  of  wild  ducks,  black  swans,  and  different 
kinds  of  gulls,  while  on  the  sandy  beach,  strange,  ungainly 
looking  pelicans  swelled  their  huge  gullets  and  preened 
their  long  curved  beaks. 

The  cone  on  which  they  stood  was  at  the  bend  of  a  curve, 
and  beyond  the  gorges  on  each  side  of  it  the  range  sloped 
down  from  its  razor-back  summit  in  long  gentle  undula- 
tions, cut  here  and  there  by  deep  furrows,  with  green 
pasture  in  the  openings  at  the  foot  of  the  gullys.  Myriads 
of  parrots  shrieked  and  chattered  in  the  gum  trees,  which 
grew  almost  to  the  lake  shore.  In  many  places  patches  of 
sand,  standing  out  in  the  water,  showed  how  shallow  the 
lake  was,  and  told  them  that  in  another  month  of  drought 
it  would  probably  be  quite  dry,  and  that  the  mirage  might 
be  seen. 


CHAPTER  XXIX. 

"IT   IS   A   PLEDGE." 

THE  camp,  which  Tregaskiss  had  once  dropped  on  by 
accident  when  out  after  stock,  lay  in  the  hollow  of  a  rocky 
gully  to  the  west  of  the  cone,  which,  impracticable  as  it 
seemed  at  the  first  glance,  was  yet  the  easiest  point  where 
the  range  could  be  crossed.  The  gully  was  broken  about 
halfway  by  a  sheer  precipice  over  which  in  rainy  seasons 
there  was  a  considerable  fall  of  water.  Now  only  a  trickle 
made  the  tiniest  cloud  of  spray  upon  a  dark  pool  at  the 
foot  of  the  cliff.  The  pool,  which  was  very  deep,  gave  out 
a  rivulet  that  watered  a  small  plateau,  well  grassed,  free 
from  poison  bush,  the  Western  scourge,  and  closed  in  on 
three  sides  by  the  range,  thus  forming  a  natural  paddock, 
whence  cattle  and  horses  could  not  easily  stray.  Behind  the 
waterfall  was  a  good-sized  cave,  and  this,  it  was  settled, 
should  be  turned  into  the  ladies'  sleeping-room,  a  tarpaulin 
slung  across  the  entrance  keeping  out  the  spray,  though 
now  this  was  hardly  necessary,  and  dry  grass  spread  as  a 
foundation  for  the  blankets.  It  was  an  enchanting  nook, 
its  angle  sheltered  by  the  hills,  its  base  debouching  upon 
the  low  downs  between  the  range  and  the  lake,  while  the 
breeze  from  the  water,  caught  as  in  a  funnel,  made  it  seem 
deliciously  cool  after  the  long  ride  among  scorched,  barren 
hills. 

The  riders  had  zigzagged  down  along  what  was  scarcely 
a  track,  over  stones  and  fallen  logs,  following  Tregaskiss 
and  the  black  boys,  who  were  already  dismounted  and  hob- 
bling their  horses  when  the  rest  of  the  party  appeared. 
Ning,  once  off  the  saddle,  had  forgotten  her  fatigue,  and 

840 


"IT  IS  A  PLEDGE."  347 

was  now  running  hither  and  thither  collecting  sticks  for 
the  fire,  and  helping  the  black  boys  to  gather  grass.  The 
black  boys  loved  Ning,  and  it  was  funny  to  hear  her  chat- 
tering to  them  in  her  own  queer  mixture  of  English  and 
blacks'  language,  and  touching  to  watch  how  careful  they 
were  not  to  let  her  handle  dead  wood  or  go  where  there 
was  a  chance  of  her  being  bitten  by  a  snake.  The  gentle- 
men turned  to, — Geneste  understood  how  to  bivouac, — 
and  very  soon  packs  were  undone,  horses  watered  and 
hobbled,  a  fire  blazing,  the  billies  set  on  to  boil,  and  the 
cave  got  ready  for  the  ladies  to  unpack  and  settle  their 
own  belongings. 

Helen  and  the  Cusack  girls,  with  Mrs.  Tregaskiss, 
busied  themselves  there,  and  Gladys  Hilditch  looked  on 
with  deep  interest  while  Shand  and  the  Gulf  man  cut  two 
clean  squares  of  bark,  put  on  each  a  heap  of  flour,  and  pro- 
ceeded to  mix  and  knead  damper  and  johnny-cakes. 

Gladys  had  declared  that  nothing  would  content  her  but  a 
true  bush  picnic,  and  had  insisted  on  quart-pot  tea  and  a 
damper.  Geneste  had  pleaded  for  johnny-cakes,  for  which 
Shand  was  noted,  but  the  Gulf  man  swore  by  his  damper, 
and  Gladys  had  appointed  herself  umpire  in  the  competition. 

The  sun  had  nearly  reached  the  range  opposite  when 
the  damper  was  ready  for  its  bed  of  ashes.  Ning  shouted 
that  the  sea  was  in  a  blaze,  and  the  blacks'  fires,  lower 
down  the  valley,  seemed  indeed  like  sparks  thrown  out  from 
the  flaming  trail  across  the  lake.  Ning  wanted  her  mother 
to  let  her  run  down  along  the  gully  till  she  came  to  the 
sandy  shore.  She  would  not  believe  that  there  was  any 
possibilit}r  of  her  taking  a  wrong  turn  among  the  spurs 
below  the  plateau,  and  that  so  getting  out  of  sight  of  the 
water,  she  might  lose  herself  among  the  gum  trees.  She 
wanted  to  look  at  the  pelicans  closer,  to  gather  shells,  to 
search  among  the  black  swans  for  the  twelve  white  ones 
who  were,  she  was  sure,  the  bewitched  princes  of  Hans 

Andersen's  story.     And  there  were  other  things  that  she 
23 


348  MRS.   TREGASKIS3. 

wanted  more  than  to  find  the  princes.  To  Ning,  Lake 
Eungella  was  the  scene  of  all  the  fairy  stories.  She  had 
grown  with  the  belief.  It  would  have  broken  the  heart  of 
the  imaginative  child  to  be  convinced  that  Andersen's 
people  had  no  existence.  Her  mother  read  her  Andersen's 
stories  every  night,  and  Clare  herself  had  always  a  whimsi- 
cal notion  that  they  were  real  scenes  and  people  some- 
where. Tregaskiss  had  started  the  theory  by  calling  out, 
when  Ning  asked  her  troublesome  question,  "  Wunli  ?  " 
(Where),  "  Oh,  over  by  Lake  Eungella,  Pickaninny  !  " 

Unconsciously  Clare  had  followed  suit,  and  so  Ning  was 
firmly  persuaded  that  along  the  shores  of  Lake  Eungella 
lay  all  the  wonderful  countries  of  story-land,  the  region  in 
which  the  Chimney-Sweep  had  wooed  the  proud  Princess, 
the  Palace  by  the  Water  where  the  poor  little  dumb  Mer- 
maid had  sat  at  the  feet  of  the  Prince,  the  Garden  of  Para- 
dise, the  Cave  of  the  Winds,  and  Ning's  ultimate  desire, 
the  dwelling  of  that  friendly  witch  who  had  pulled  in 
Gerda's  boat,  and  had  petted  her  and  made  all  the  roses 
sink  into  the  ground,  lest  they  should  remind  her  of  Kay. 
Ning  had  al\va3rs  felt  indignant  with  Gerda  for  running 
away  from  that  delightful  witch,  with  her  wonderful  hat, 
her  cherries,  and  her  good  things,  to  whom  little  girls  were 
so  precious.  Ning  had  cherished  the  secret  determination 
that  she  would  find  that  old  witch,  and  tell  her  how  sorry 
she  was  for  her  loneliness,  and  that  here  was  another  little 
girl  who  really  loved  her,  and  who,  though  she  might  not 
leave  mummy  and  stay  with  her  altogether,  would  come 
over  as  often  as  she  could  and  play  in  that  beautiful  garden 
where  the  flowers  told  stories,  and  make  up  to  her  generally 
for  the  loss  of  Gerda.  This  determination,  and  these  unself- 
ish desires,  Ning  tried  now  to  convey  to  her  mother,  who 
listened  to  the  child's  prattle  with  ears  that  hardly  heard, 
and  answered  with  lips  which  spoke  mechanically  :  "  Oh, 
child,  don't  talk  such  nonsense  !  there's  no  such  thing  as 
Gerda's  witch." 


"IT  IS  A  PLEDGE."  349 

Ning's  great  brown  eyes  stared  at  her  mother  in  horri- 
fied reproof. 

"  Mummy,  you  tell  Ningie  that  Gerda's  witch  sit  down 
alonga  Lake  Eungella.  Mummy,  ba'al  you  tell  a  lie. 
Mine  think  it  that  very  wicked  to  tell  a  lie." 

"  Yes,  it's  very  wicked  to  tell  a  lie,"  assented  Clare 
wearily,  "but  that  isn't  a  lie  :  Gerda's  witch  is  only  in  a 
story  made  out  of  a  man's  head." 

"  Mummy,"  persisted  Ning  stolidly,  "  you  been  say  that 
Gerda's  witch  sit  down  close  up  Lake  Eungella.  Suppose 
not  Lake  Eungella,  then  wunli — where  that  sit  down  ?  " 

"There's  no  such  thing  as  Gerda's  witch,"  repeated 
Clare. 

Ning  brooded  for  a  minute.  "Mine  not  believe  that," 
she  announced  at  last ;  then  after  another  pause  :  "  Daddy 
been  tell  Ning  that  Gerda's  witch,  and  Hullabaloo,  and 
Blue  Beard,  and  all  the  rest,  sit  down  alonga  Lake 
Eungella.  What  for  daddy  tell  a  lie  ?" 

"I  don't  know,  Ning  ;  go  and  ask  him  ;  don't  tease  !  " 

"Mummy,  mine  certain  sure  Gerda's  witch  sit  down 
close  up  here.  Last  night  Ningie  dream — water  like  it  this 
fellow  water,  rock  like  it  this  fellow  rock."  Ning  waved 
her  hand  dramatically.  "  Mine  see  witch  and  garden, 
and  little  fellow  house — that  close  up — over  there.  I 
show  you  the  place,  mummy." 

"  No,  Ning  !  dreams  are  nonsense." 

"  In  the  Bible,"  affirmed  Ning,  with  triumphant  convic- 
tion, "dreams  is  true."  Presently:  "Mummy,  will  you 
come  and  find  the  witch  ?" 

"  No,  Ning,  I'm  too  tired." 

"  Mummy,  will  you  come  and  find  the  witch  to-morrow  ?  " 

"  I  shall  be  too  tired  to-morrow  ;  we've  got  to  get  home." 

"Mummy,  you's  always  tired  now.  Ba'al  you  run  about 
with  Ning,  ba'al  tell  Ning  stories,  or  come  and  fish  for 
craws,  or  look  out  for  chuckies — what-for?" 

"  I'm  getting  old,  child," 


350  MRS.   TREGASKISS. 

"  Then  soon  go  bong,  mummy,"  said  Ning  solemnly. 

"  Die,"  corrected  Clare.  "  You  mustn't  talk  blacks'  lan- 
guage." 

"  If  you  go  bong,"  pursued  Ning  reflectively,  "  then 
you  go  to  heaven.  No  witches  sit  down  in  heaven. 
Mummy," — persuasively, —  "come  now  and  find  Gerda's 
witch?" 

"  No,  I'm  too  tired," 

"  Mummy," — desperately, — "  will  you  be  tired  in 
heaven  ?  " 

"  Oh,  go  away,  child  !  Go  and  find  Auntie  Gladys. 
Let  mummy  think." 

"  You's  always  thinking.     Ning  will  think  too." 

The  child  put  herself  on  a  rock  opposite  her  mother, 
crossed  her  little  legs,  put  her  arms  round  her  knees  as  she 
had  seen  her  father  and  the  stockmen  do,  and,  with  a  mad- 
dening pertinacity,  fixed  her  big  solemn  eyes  upon  her 
mother's  face.  In  that  attitude  she  had  a  curious  resem- 
blance to  Tregaskiss. 

"  Go  away,  child  !  don't  sit  staring  at  me  like  that. 
Mummy  has  got  a  headache  ;  mummy  wants  to  be  quiet." 

Ning  got  up  very  slowly  and  went  away,  throwing  back- 
ward glances,  weighted  with  the  purpose  still  in  her  mind. 

"Daddy  much  gooder  to  Ning  than  mummy,"  she  said  ; 
"daddy  will  take  Ning  to  find  Gerda's  witch."  She 
paused  a  minute,  impishly  daring.  "  Daddy  will  let  Ning 
go  and  find  Gerda's  witch,"  she  flung  back,  compromising 
with  her  conscience,  for  Ning  fully  intended  to  seek  for 
Gerda's  witch  whether  her  father  would  or  no,  and,  when 
the  prohibition  did  not  come  from  her  mother,  as  she 
expected,  conceived  herself  free  to  carry  out  the  intention, 
and  darted  down  to  the  lower  camp-fire,  where  Tregaskiss, 
the  little  Cusacks,  and  Miss  Lawford  had  paused  for  a 
minute  or  two,  in  their  stroll  down  the  valley,  to  have  a 
patter  with  the  black  boys. 

To  Clare  Tregaskiss  the  child's  importunate  questioning 


"IT  IS  A  PLEDGE."  351 

had  been  as  the  flutter  round  her  head  of  some  insistent 
winged  thing,  so  absorbed  was  she  in  her  own  wretched- 
ness, so  beset  by  the  reckless  impulse  to  accept  Geneste's 
offer,  and  to  go  away  and  be  quit  forever  of  the  burden 
of  her  marriage  and  its  responsibilities.  During  that  long 
ride  she  had  worked  herself  into  a  mood  in  which  the 
children's  images  seemed  no  more  than  blurs  upon  a 
mental  background  of  dreary  despair,  and  herself  and 
Geneste  the  only  living  realities.  It  was  a  relief  to  have 
the  child  gone.  She  knew  that  Geneste  was  waiting  till 
they  could  be  alone  to  come  and  talk  to  her  ;  and  she 
knew,  too,  that  the  interview  would  be  a  momentous  one. 
She  was  sitting  some  distance  from  the  cave,  in  a  sort  of 
niche  in  the  hilly  wall  which  bounded  the  plateau.  Here 
the  rocks  seemed  to  have  been  cloven  by  some  ancient  con- 
vulsion of  the  earth,  and  were  bare  and  striated,  with  broad 
ledges,  forming  a  gentle  tier  of  natural  benches.  Upon 
one  of  these  Clare  had  placed  herself.  Projecting  in 
front  of  the  niche,  and  scattered  about  the  trough  of  rock, 
were  some  granite  boulders  which  screened  the  hollow,  so 
that  no  one  at  the  camps  would  have  seen  easily  that  she 
was  sitting  there.  She  knew,  however,  that  Geneste  had 
been  watching  her,  and  would  come  and  find  her  before 
many  minutes  had  passed.  Her  heart  beat  fast,  and  her 
bosom  heaved,  with  an  inward  sob,  over  her  own  pitiful 
condition.  Her  shoulder,  where  Tregaskiss  had  struck 
her,  ached  dully  .beneath  her  linen  riding  jacket,  and 
reminded  her  of  her  trouble.  She  had  not  said  a  word 
to  Geneste  of  the  scene  with  her  husband — had,  indeed, 
bidden  herself  refrain  from  doing  so  ;  for,  all  through  her 
resentment  against  Tregaskiss,  there  was  the  sense  of  hav- 
ing injured  him,  and  a  feeling  of  justice,  which  forced  her 
to  excuse  him.  But  now  she  did  not  seem  able  to  bear  her 
suffering  alone,  and  had  the  longing  to  tell  Geneste,  that  a 
child  might  have  who  seeks  sympathy  from  its  mother 
after  a  blow. 


352  MRS.   TREGASKISS. 

The  moon  was  not  at  its  full,  but  was  shining  brightly, 
and  the  night  was  so  still  that  every  sound  could  be  heard 
with  distinctness,  and  seemed  to  send  an  echo  down  from 
the  narrow  end  of  the  gorge  :  the  clanking  of  the  horses' 
hobbles  and  tinkle  of  their  bells  ;  the  noise  of  the  black 
boys  at  their  camp  ;  the  drip  of  the  streamlet  into  the 
pool;  the  guggling  sound  of  water  reptiles,  and  at  intervals 
the  curlews'  screech  and  the  answering  howl  of  dingoes. 
Most  of  the  party  had  wandered  down  toward  the  lake, 
the  gentlemen  carrying  guns — Shand  and  the  Gulf  man  on 
a  business-like  expedition  after  pelicans,  Tregaskiss  and 
Martin  Cusack  bound  for  a  reedy  water-hole  near  the 
shore,  where  were  numbers  of  wild  duck.  Martin  had 
gone  on  ahead,  while  Tregaskiss  dallied  with  Miss  Lawford 
and  her  young  charges.  Helen  had  tried  to  attach  herself 
to  the  group,  but  they  had  shown  that  she  was  not  par- 
ticularly welcome,  and  Harold  Gillespie,  determined  to  say 
his  say,  had  drawn  her  off.  Gladys  and  Blanch ard  had 
disappeared. 

Ning  came  upon  her  father  at  an  inopportune  moment. 
She  had  run  after  him,  shrieking  her  request,  as  lie  turned 
from  the  black  boj's'  camp.  Tregaskiss  only  roared  : 
"  Stuff  !  "  and  "  Don't  let  your  mummy  make  a  goose  of 
you,  Pickaninny  !  "  to  King's  tale  of  Gerda's  witch.  "  Go 
back  and  tell  your  mummy  to  put  you  to  bed,"  he  shouted  ; 
"  I  don't  want  you  ;  it's  time  for  little  girls  who  have  been 
on  horseback  all  day  to  go  to  sleep." 

Ning  slunk  back,  wise  enough  to  know  that  persistence 
would  call  forth  orders  that  might  not  be  disobeyed  ;  but 
after  a  minute  or  two  she  followed  the  party  some  way 
toward  the  more  open  country,  a  small  shadow  in  the 
moonlight,  which  was  lost  by  and  by  among  the  gidia  trees. 

Geneste  had  gone  in  search  of  Clare. 

"Mrs.  Tregaskiss,"  he  said  softly  ;  then,  as  he  came 
closer,  "  Clare  !  " 

He   saw  that   she  was  alone.     She  turned  upon  him  a 


"IT   IS  A  PLEDGE."  353 

white,  tragic  face,  and  made  a  little  movement  signifying 
that  he  might  come  beside  her.  He  leaped,  as  well  as  his 
stiff  leg  would  allow,  across  the  mouth  of  the  ravine  and 
into  the  shelter  of  the  boulder  against  which  she  was  lean- 
ing. "  Clare,"  he  repeated. 

Still  she  did  not  speak,  but  stretched  out  her  hand  to 
his,  and  drew  closer  to  him,  with  a  helpless  gesture  which 
touched  him  to  the  heart.  He  could  hardly  restrain  the 
longing  to  fold  her  close  in  his  arms,  and  soften  and  soothe 
her  with  loving  caresses.  He  did,  however,  resist  it,  and 
only  stroked  and  kissed  the  appealing  hand. 

"  Something  has  happened?  "  he  asked  ;  "  I  have  seen  it 
all  day  in  your  face.  Why  did  you  go  off  so  suddenly  to 
bed  last  night  ?  I  have  been  waiting  and  watching  for  a 
word,  in  a  perfect  agony  of  anxiety,  but  you  would  scarcely 
look  at  me." 

"  I  couldn't,"  she  whispered. 

"  Clare,"  he  repeated,  alarmed  ;  "  it  is  something  very 
bad  that  has  happened." 

"  Is  it  ?  I  don't  know.  At  moments  I  feel  wicked 
enough  to  be  glad,  for  it  seems  to  release  me." 

His  mind  jumped  at  one  conclusion,  and  yet  was  puzzled. 

"Do  you  mean — you  remember  what  I  said — that  you 
can  get  your  freedom  ?  " 

"No  ;  not  that.  I'm  afraid  to  talk  of  it.  I  thought  I 
wouldn't  tell  you,  but  I  can't  help  it.  Only  don't  say  any- 
thing to  tempt  me.  You  know  what  you  said — that  day 
riding  to  Gunna-Warra.  If  you  said  it  now,  I  might  not 
be  s\»  strong  as  I  was  then.  I  might — fling  everything  up. 
I  don't  know. what  I  mightn't  do.  I'm  so  lonely,  dear. 
I  am  so  lonely." 

He  could  bear  it  no  longer  ;  she  was  in  his  arms,  held 
fast  and  fiercely. 

"  No — don't !  "  she  murmured,  with  an  involuntary 
physical  shrinking  in  the  very  joy  of  the  embrace  ;  "  it 
hurts — I'm  bruised  and  sore." 


354  MRS.  TREGASKISS. 

"  Bruised  ! "  he  cried.  "  How  ?  You  haven't  had  a 
fall  ?  Show  me  where." 

She  touched  her  shoulder,  withdrawing  herself.  "  Never 
mind  ;  it  does  not  matter." 

He  said  nothing,  but  quickly,  and  with  a  doctor's  deft- 
ness, unfastened  her  bodice  and  laid  bare  the  white  neck, 
with  that  purplish  red  mark,  reaching  from  shoulder  to 
chest,  showing  clearly  in  the  moonlight.  The  cross,  on  its 
thin  gold  chain,  which  she  always  wore  from  a  certain  feel- 
ing of  superstitious  reverence,  showed  too,  and  reminded 
him  of  her  vow  and  of  the  barriers  between  them.  Slie, 
looking  at  him,  thrilled  at  the  sudden  flaming  of  love  and 
pity  in  his  eyes,  and  at  the  set  grim  look  of  anger,  which 
intensified  the  falcon-expression  of  his  face.  He  examined 
the  bruise  very  gently,  and  then,  with  a  tenderness  that 
set  her  sobbing,  kissed  the  place  again  and  again  and 
again. 

"He  struck  you  ?" 

"Yes.     He  had  been  watching  us You  know " 

"But  there  was  nothing "  Geneste  interrupted 

quickly. 

"  No  ;  it  wasn't  that.  He  did  not  accuse  me.  He 

I  think  he  believes  in  me.  That  is  what  makes  me  have 
a  mad  longing  to  tear  off  the  mask.  Can't  you  under- 
stand ?" 

"  Oh,  my  poor  Clare  !  Yes,  yes  !  Tear  it  off  ;  fling  it 
•away  !  Isn't  that  what  I  am  begging  of  you  ?  " 

"  His  grievance  was  senseless,"  she  went  on.  "  He  said 
I  was  poisoning  people's  minds  against  him  ;  setting  you 
against  him — you,  and  the  child." 

"  He  was  drunk,  I  suppose." 

"  Not  that  exactly  ;  he  knew  what  he  was  doing." 

"  Oh  !  "  exclaimed  Geneste  with  contempt;  "  in  a  state  of 
chronic  alcoholism  it  is  not  so  easy  to  make  distinctions 
between  drunkenness  and  sobriety.  Well,  surely  this  ends 
it — for  you  ?  " 


"IT  IS  A  PLEDGE."  355 

"  My  married  life  in  ended,  certainly,"  she  answered,  in  a 
dull  tone. 

There  was  silence  for  a  few  moments. 

"  And  do  you  imagine  that  it  will  be  possible  for  yon  to 
continue  living  under  the  same  roof  with  your  husband  ?  " 
Geneste  asked  hardly. 

"  I  cannot !  I  cannot  !  I  told  him  that  he  made  me  hate 
him,  and  he  said  that  he  hated  me  ;  that  I  might  go — to 
the  devil,  for  all  he  cared." 

"  Well,  then,  take  him  at  his  word — that  is  what  I  im- 
plore. Go — not  to  the  devil,  as  he  puts  it,  but  to  love, 
peace,  happiness,  with  me." 

Her  face  and  attitude  seemed  to  tell  of  the  wavering 
impulses,  the  tottering  rectitude  which  would  not  stand 
against  too  severe  a  strain. 

"  But  you  know,"  she  said  weakly, "  it  is  not  all  his  fault. 
We  were  never  suited  to  each  other.  In  all  our  life  to- 
gether I  have  been  in  secret  antagonism  with  him.  Causes 
act  and  react  under  the  surface — I  know  it.  No  matter 
how  we  may  try  to  hide  our  thoughts  and  wishes,  they  go 
outside  of  us,  and  make  a  force  which  influences  ourselves 
and  others.  He  has  felt  things  in  me,  though  he  couldn't 
reason  about  them,  and  though  he  trusted  me.  I  have  no 
right  to  blame  him." 

"  Granted,  to  a  certain  extent.  Yet  I  think  you  take  an 
exaggerated  view.  We  have  talked  of  this  before  ;  and  it 
does  not  alter  the  facts  of  the  situation.  You  are  what 
you  are  ;  he  is  what  he  is.  You  can't  be  harmonised  by 
act  of  parliament.  And  your  children,  remember,  are  half 
of  him  as  well  as  half  of  you." 

"The  children  !  Ah,  dear  Heaven!  they  are  all  that 
matters." 

All  that  he  said  was  pitilessly  true.  She  remembered 
King's  attitude  and  expression  of  a  little  while  before,  and 
how  it  had  reminded  her  of  Tregaskiss.  She  remembered 
her  revolt  at  different  times  against  the  beings  she  had 


356  MRS.    TREGASKISS. 

brought  into  the  world,  because  of  those  very  traits  and 
resemblances  which  declared  that  they. were  not  wholly  of 
her.  She  could  have  loved  her  children  passionately  if 
they  had  been  Geneste's.  Was  she  to  blame  because  even 
nature  was  in  conflict  with  the  struggling  maternal  instinct, 
so  much  less  strong  than  the  other  instinct.  The  ironic 
tragedy  of  the  whole  position  came  over  her  with  a  force 
that  shook  her  into  helpless  sobs.  Then  Geneste  seized 
his  opportunity.  She  lay  now  quite  unresisting  in  his  arms, 
and  gave  herself  up  to  the  full  beatitude  of  his  caresses. 
At  the  moment  it  seemed  to  her  that  she  did  not  care  for 
anything  in  the  world  but  the  joy  of  his  touch,  the  heaven 
of  his  kisses.  Neither  of  them  knew  how  quickly  the 
time  passed  during  those  sweet  interludes  of  silent  contact, 
alternating  with  gushes  of  confidence.  Love  is  so  wonder- 
ful in  its  mystic  blending  of  soul  and  sense — the  physical 
so  necessary,  and  yet  so  unimportant  in  the  spiritual  oneness. 
There  was  no  more  argument,  no  more  entreaty,  no  more 
weighing  of  rights  and  wrongs,  and  of  practical  difficulties 
against  ideal  joys.  Everything  was  taken  for  granted  in 
that  tender  babble  of  love,  of  which  the  refrain  ran,  "We 
were  meant  by  fate  for  one  another." 

It  was  getting  late  ;  the  moon  dipped  belo\v  mid-heaven. 
Coo-ees  sounded  in  the  gorge,  and  the  stray  shots  which 
they  had  heard,  unheeding,  ceased.  Now  a  very  musical 
"  Coo-ee  !  "  was  sent  forth  quite  near.  Clare  knew  it  for 
the  voice  of  Gladys,  and  started,  reluctantly  releasing  her- 
self from  him.  He  would  hardly  let  her  go. 

"Sweet  !  Dear  love  !  Are  you  happy  now  ?  Doesn't 
this  convince  you  ?  " 

The  old  struggle  began  once  more. 

"  If  it  were  not  for  the  children— the  poor  little 
children  !  " 

"  His  children  !  " 

Geneste's  whole  manner  changed.  He  stood  before  her, 
strong  and  masterful,  and  with  his  eyes  fixed  fiercely  upon 


"IT  IS  A  PLEDGE."  357 

her  face.  The  gaze  seemed  to  force  her  to  his  will  ;  she 
always  felt  that  if  he  chose  to  look  at  her  in  a  certain  way, 
she  must  do  whatever  he  pleased.  She  had  never,  in  the 
case  of  any  other  human  being,  experienced  this  sense  of 
weakness. 

"  Clare,"  he  said,  "  I  am  going  to  put  you  to  the  test.  I 
feel  that  this  is  the  crucial  moment  in  your  life  and  mine. 
It  will  never  come  again,  and  I  don't  mean  to  let  it  pass 
now.  Your  marriage,  as  such,  you  say  is  ended.  You 
know  what  your  life  with  me  would  be  ;  you  know  what 
it  must  be  for  both,  apart.  You  know,  too,  the  misery 
of  the  half-union — the  beating  against  bars  you  put 
up,  the  pretence  at  obedience  in  keeping  away  from 
you,  and  the  misery  it  has  caused  us  these  past  weeks. 
We  can't  live  like  that ;  it  must  be  the  one  thing  or  the 
other.  Choose — now,  to-night." 

"  Choose  !  "  she  repeated  faintly. 

"  You  must  choose  between  your  children  and  me — that's 
what  it  all  comes  to.  I  leave  your  husband  out  of  the 
question  ;  you  owe  him  nothing.  It  is  your  children — his 
children — or  me." 

"  You  will  leave  me  ?  "  she  asked. 

"I  have  made  up  my  mind  to  end  the  strain  one  way  or 
the  other,  because  I  see  the  situation  is  impossible.  If  you 
refuse  rne,  I  shall  go  away  from  3^011  forever.  I  shall  suffer 
cruelly  for  months — years.  You  know  that  such  a  blow 
must  alter  the  whole  current  of  my  life.  But  other  men  have 
had  to  bear  such  blows,  and  have  lived  on  like  other  men. 
I  am  only  '  just  a  man,'  as  you  say," — his  voice  had  a  bitter- 
ness of  which  she  was  very  conscious  ;  "  I  don't  profess  to 
have  superhuman  strength,  any  more  than  superhuman 
virtue.  The  wound  will  always  be  there,  but  in  time  it 
will  become  cauterised,  and  I  shall  get  strong." 

"  Oh,  you  are  strong  now — horribly  strong  !  " 

"  I  shall  get  over  it.  One  can  endure  the  inevitable, 
you  see  I  am  taking  the  selfish  view  ;  1  do  so  on  purpose. 


358  MRS.   TREGASKISS. 

As  for  you,  you  will  die  if  you  go  on  here — die  before 
many  years  are  past,  and  be  to  me  only  a  memory  and  a 
grave.  It  will  be  much  better  for  you  to  die.  I  have 
already  put  this  before  you." 

"  I  know  it.  I  shall  die — perhaps  like  poor  Mrs.  Car- 
mody.  Why  do  I  call  her  'poor,'  I  wonder?  But  I  shall 
not  be  glad,  as  she  was,  when  she  was  dying,  that  she  had 
done  her  duty." 

"No,  you  will  not  be  glad.  You  will  feel  that  you  have 
sacrificed  your  own  life  and  happiness,  as  well  as  my  wel- 
fare, for  nothing.  But  you  won't  do  that,  Clare."  His 
whole  manner  changed  from  its  deliberately  hard,  dictatorial 
tone,  and  again  his  voice  became  exceedingly  tender: 
"You  won't  do  that?" 

"  What  do  you  want  me  to  do  ?  " 

The  words  came  from  her  as  if  forced  by  torture. 

"  I  want  you  never  to  go  home  again.  I  want  you  to 
ride  with  me,  when  we  leave  this  place,  straight  away  to 
Port  Victoria,  where  we  can  catch  the  boat  to  Sydney.  I 
want  you  to  have  done  with  your  old  life  forever.  You 
will  do  it  ?  Don't  worry  over  small  details  and  obstacles. 
Everything  is  arranged." 

"  You  had  planned  this?" 

"Yes — deliberatel}T.  I  own  it.  I  looked  out  the 
steamers  before  we  left  Darra  this  morning — after  I  had 
seen  your  face  at  breakfast.  I  have  spoken,  too,  to  Am- 
brose Blanchard,  and  he  has  agreed,  in  case  of  my  being 
called  away  suddenly,  to  undertake  the  management  of 
Darra.  We  shall  ride  on  ahead  on  the  home  journey,  and 
turn  off  by  a  short  cut  that  I  know,  to  a  bush  inn,  where  I 
have  saddle  horses  in  the  paddock.  By  pushing  forward,  Ave 
shall  catch  the  evening  train  to  Port  Victoria,  and  the  boat 

O  • 

south,  almost  before  they  realise  here  that  we  have  gone." 
The  coolness  and  audacity  of  his  plan   were  as  a  new 
force  suddenly  turned  upon  her,  impossible  to  fight  against. 
There  was  no  resistance  in  her  feeble  protest. 


"IT   IS  A  PLEDGE."  359 

"And  if  I  do  not  go?" 

"Then  I  shall.  I  am  quite  resolved,  for  your  sake  as 
well  as  for  my  own.  I  cannot  live  in  your  neighbourhood 
knowing  what  your  life  is,  and  knowing  that  I  have  no 
power  to  help  yon.  You  could  not  bear  it,  either  ;  it  would 
kill  you  and  embitter  me.  I  shall  go  as  far  away  as  I  can 
from  3rou,  and  try  to  blot  this  year  out  of  my  life — as  much 
as  it  is  possible  for  me  to  do  so." 

Again  the  coo-ee  sounded,  and  Gladys'  voice  called  : 
"  Clare  !  " 

Mrs.  Tregaskiss  moved  from  the  boulder. 

"  I  must  go." 

"  Not  till  you  have  given  me  your  answer.  I  must  know. 
It  is  life  union  or  utter  separation,  from  to-night.  Clare, 
which  is  it  to  be  ?  " 

He  took  her  two  hands,  and  they  stood  for  several  mo- 
ments, the  two  pairs  of  eyes  gazing  into  each  other.  Hers 
quailed  ;  her  form  swayed  to  him,  her  arms  went  up  round 
his  neck.  "  I  love  you,"  she  said. 

"You  will  come?" 

"Yes;  I  will  come." 

"  Oh,  I  will  never  let  you  regret  it,  my  love — my  wife  ! " 

"Now  I  am  going,"  she  said.  "  I  have  given  you  your 
answer  ;  you  should  be  content.  From  this  moment  I  shall 
be  a  different  woman,  not  the  old  Clare  Tregaskiss  any 
more.  I  will  not  hear  Ning  say  her  prayers  to-night. 
To-morrow  she  will  have  no  mother." 

"  Do  not  fear  for  her,  Clare.  If  you  believe  in  Heaven's 
providence,  you  should  believe  that  she  will  be  cared  for." 

She  shuddered. 

"  What  mockery  !  Do  I  believe  in  Heaven  ?  Don't  you 
know  that  I  am  disobeying  the  laws  of  my  Church  ?  It 
is  better  for  me  not  to  believe  in  Heaven's  providence." 

"  Clare,  is  it  a  pledge  ?    You  won't  change  ?" 

"  I  won't  change,  and  it  is  a  pledge.  Look  here  !  "  She 
fumbled  at  her  neck  and  drew  out  the  chain  and  cross. 


360  MRS.  TREGASKISS. 

"  You  know  what  I  swore  upon  this.  It  was  a  false  oath. 
If  I  believed  in  Heaven,  I  should  believe  that  punishment 
would  come  upon  me  through  my  child.  See  what  I  am 
defying — for  you.  I've  broken  my  oath,  for  love  of  you. 
I  have  no  use  for  this  any  longer." 

She  tore  apart  the  fastening  of  the  chain,  and  flung  the 
cross,  with  all  the  strength  of  her  arm,  out  into  the  ravine. 
They  saw  it  bound  against  a  rock,  take  a  fresh  impetus, 
and  bound  again,  disappearing  in  the  cleft  where  no  search 
would  ever  again  find  it.  Then  Clare  spoke  solemnly  : 

"  It  was  my  mother's  cross.  I  swore  upon  it  by  my 
child's  life  and  happiness.  Now  my  oath  is  broken.  I  am 
a  wicked  woman,  and  I  don't  care,  I  don't  care — because 
I  love  you." 


CHAPTER  XXX. 

OUTSIDE   THE   CAVE. 

MRS.  HILDITCH  was  standing  not  far  from  the  boulders 
when  Clare  emerged  from  the  cleft  in  advance  of  Geneste. 
He  and  she  botli  had  the  feeling  of  being  detected  crimi- 
nals. The  humiliation  was  horrible,  and  made  Clare  more 
recklessly  determined  to  fling  off  falsities.  Gladys  had 
sensed  the  situation,  and  Clare's  face  confirmed  her  suspi- 
cions. Slie  knew  that  there  had  been  a  critical  love-scene, 
guessed  that  Geneste  had  persuaded  Clare  to  run  away 
with  him.  Gladys  was  so  happy  herself,  that  her  whole 
being  throbbed  in  sympathy  with  love,  even  though  it 
might  be  of  an  illicit  kind.  She  felt  a  guilty  spasm  of  joy 
at  the  thought  that  Clare  had  determined  to  take  the  law 
into  her  own  hands  ;  and  then,  frightened  at  herself  for 
being  glad,  Gladys  resolved  to  fight,  as  far  as  she  could,  on 
the  side  of  conventionality  and  the  children.  "  Ah,  the 
children  !  That  was  just  all  that  mattered,"  Gladys  said 
to  herself,  too. 

"  Clai'e,"  she  whispered,  "  I  have  been  looking  for  you. 
I  am  afraid  Mr.  Tregaskiss  is  angry  at  your  being  out  so 
long.  They've  all  come  back  ;  Helen  and  Miss  Lawford 
have  gone  to  bed  ;  and  I  let  Mr.  Tregaskiss  think  that  you 
were  in  the  cave,  too." 

"That  was  very  devoted  of  you,  Gladys,  to  tell  a  lie  for 
my  sake,"  Clare  answered,  in  an  odd  tone.  "  But  I  think 
we'll  undeceive  Keith  now.  We  are  not  going  to  have  any 
more  lies — after  to-night." 

"  Clare,  do  you  mean " 

861 


362  MRS.   TREGA3KISS. 

At  that  moment  Geneste  came  up  to  them  and  said,  in 
his  self-possessed  manner : 

"  I'm  afraid  it  is  very  late,  Mrs.  Hilditcli,  and  the  fault 
is  mine  of  keeping  Mrs.  Tregaskiss  out.  It's  a  lovely 
moonlight  night,  isn't  it?  I  think  I  had  better  go  to  my 
camp  now,  and  I  hope  you  ladies  won't  find  the  cave  very 
uncomfortable.  Good-night !  " 

He  shook  hands  formally  with  Gladys,  but  did  not  say 
anything  to  Clare.  To  Gladys,  the  omission  was  signifi- 
cant ;  to  Clare,  a  recognition,  on  his  part,  of  their  new 
relation  toward  each  other,  and  of  her  declaration  that 
there  were  to  be  no  more  lies.  He  walked  away  in  the 
direction  of  one  of  the  camp-fires — the  furthest,  where 
Blanchard  and  Martin  Cusack  were  sitting.  Close  by,  the 
black  boys  lay  wrapped  in  their  blankets,  having  heaped 
their  smouldering  log  with  twigs  to  make  a  smoke  against 
the  mosquitoes.  The  horses  had  got  as  near  the  smoke, 
too,  as  they  dared,  and  were  whisking  their  tails  and  mak- 
ing the  bells  round  their  necks  jingle  as  they  jerked  their 
heads.  Beside  the  fire  nearest  the  cave  Tregaskiss,  Shand, 
and  the  Gulf  man  were  lounging,  their  pipes  alight,  their 
guns  at  their  feet,  and  two  or  three  dead  pelicans  and 
several  brace  of  wild  duck  on  the  ground  outside  the  tent. 
They  were  talking  noisily,  discussing  the  evening's  sport, 
and  Clare,  as  she  walked  close  by,  heard  Tregaskiss  say: 

"By  Jove  !  I'm  sorry,  now,  I  didn't  let  the  Pickaninny 
come,  it  would  have  been  a  regular  adventure  for  her,  and 
would  have  cleared  her  head  of  that  witch  rubbish.  She's 
kept  too  much  at  home,  and  stuffed  with  fairy  tales  and  rot. 
I'm  not  going  to  have  it  any  longer  ;  she  shall  ride  about 
with  me,  and  my  word  !  she'll  soon  be  sitting  a  buck- 
jumper.  There's  not  a  seat  on  the  Leura  can  beat  hers." 

"Where's  Ning,  Mr.  Tregnskiss?"  Gladys  called  out, 
not  for  the  sake  of  information,  but  as  something  to  say, 
that  he  might  know  they  were  near.  Tregaskiss  looked  up 
and  saw  his  wife.  His  face  flushed  with  anger. 


OUTSIDE  THE  CAVE.  363 

"  So  it's  you  at  last ! "  he  growled,  with  a  scant  cere- 
mony. "  I  guessed  you  weren't  in  the  cave.  About  time, 
isn't  it,  for  decent  folks  to  come  in  and  go  to  bed.  I  sent 
Ning  hours  ago.  But  I  suppose  her  mother  was  too  well 
occupied  to  see  after  her." 

"  Ning  always  puts  herself  to  bed,  you  know,"  cheerfully 
observed  Gladys. 

"  And  her  mother  hears  her  say  her  prayers  !  "  sneered 
Tregaskiss.  "  The  prayers  went  to  the  wall  to-night.  I 
hate  d d  hypocrisy." 

"  Can't  I  do  anything  for  you,  Mrs.  Tregaskiss  ?  "  cried 
Mr.  Shand,  coming  forward  and  trying  to  create  a  diver- 
sion, in  his  usual  clumsy  fashion.  "  I  beg  your  pardon,  I'm 
sure  !  I  didn't  see  you.  Look  at  our  bag  !  These  pelican 
skins  are  going  to  be  cured  for  trimming  a  dress,,  or  cloak, 
or  something,  for  Ning  ;  it's  awfully  like  grebe,  isn't  it? 
Oh,  yes,  the  mosquito  nets  are  slung  up,  Mrs.  Hilditch, 
and  I  do  hope  you  won't  get  much  bitten.  Good-night ! 
Sure  I  can't  do  anything?" 

And  he  left  them  in  front  of  the  tarpaulin  which  pro- 
tected the  entrance  to  the  cave,  having,  as  Gladys  grate- 
fully observed,  covered  their  retreat. 

Mrs.  Tregaskiss  pushed  aside  the  tarpaulin.  No  light 
but  that  of  the  moon  was  in  the  cave,  but  it  was  sufficient 
to  show  the  row  of  forms  stretched  on  narrow  beds  of 
heaped  grass  and  leaves,  over  which  waterproof  sheeting 
and  blankets  had  been  spread,  though  features  could  not 
be  distinguished.  She  purposely  avoided  looking  at  the 
furthest  recess,  which,  being  partial!}'  screened  by  a  pro- 
jecting piece  of  rock,  and  so  affording  a  little  privacy,  had 
been  arranged  by  Geneste  for  Clare  and  Ning.  It  seemed 
impossible  to  Clare  that  she  could  spend  the  rest  of  that 
night  by  her  child's  side — the  child  whom  she  had  fore- 
sworn an  hour  ago,  and  whom  she  would  desert  on  the 
morrow.  Something  clutched  at  the  mother's  heart  then, 
but  she  shook  herself  free  from  the  thought  of  those  help- 
24 


364  MRS.   TREGASKISS. 

less  babes,  taking  refuge  in  that  of  her  pledge  to  Gcneste. 
She  would  force  herself  to  keep  it ;  she  would  not  expose 
herself  to  the  chance  of  another  struggle  ;  she  would 
abstain  as  far  as  she  could  from  looking  into  her  child's 
face. 

She  stooped  and  picked  up  a  waterproof  that  lay  near 
the  tarpaulin  curtain. 

"I'm  not  going  to  sleep  in  there,"  she  said,  "it's  too 
stifling.  I  shall  lie  down  on  the  rock  outside." 

Gladys  tried  to  dissuade  her. 

"Ning  might  awake  and  be  frightened." 

"  There  will  be  plenty  to  comfort  her,"  said  the  mother, 
still  in  that  odd  voice. 

Gladys  took  a  blanket  from  her  own  couch,  which  was 
nearest  the  entrance. 

"  Well,  you  shall  have  this  to  lie  upon.  Come  and  we'll 
find  a  cosey  place.  But,  oh,  the  mosquitoes  !  You  will  be 
eaten  alive  and  made  hideous." 

"  I'll  tie  my  veil  round  my  face,"  said  Clare,  and  Gladys 
gave  way,  remarking  that  she  supposed  snakes  were  as 
likely  to  be  inside  as  out.  They  found  a  hollow  on  the 
waterfall  platform,  sheltered  on  two  sides,  and  with  a  rocky 
floor.  Gladys  spread  the  blanket  and  went  back  for  an 
armful  of  leaves  and  grass.  Clare  sat  down, — she  would  not 
lie, — saj^ing  she  was  not  sleepy. 

"Neither  am  I.  And  I've  got  something  to  tell  you.  I 
want  you  to  know  that  I  am  very  happy." 

"  I  knew  that  already,  Gladys." 

"  Oh,  you  couldn't  help  knowing  !  It's  in  my  very  self 
and  comes  out  at  the  pores  of  my  skin." 

"And  from  your  eyes,  and  in  your  laugh,  and  in  the 
tone  of  your  voice — since  yesterday,"  said  Clare. 

"  Ah,  I  only  knew  for  certain  last  night.  I  don't  deserve 
it.  I've  been  so  bad,  I'm  not  worthy  of  him.  But  that's 
the  beauty  of  love,  Clare.  It — it's  like  the  salvation 
through  Christ.  Nothing  matters — not  even  badness,  for 


OUTSIDE  THE  CAVE.  365 

love  washes  it  all  away.  Oh,  my  dear,  nothing  matters 
but  love,  and  money  is  of  no  account  whatever  ! " 

"  You'll  lose  your  money.  Oh,  no  !  I  quite  agree  with 
you.  That  is  not  of  the  least  consequence — if  the  love 
lasts." 

"  It  will  last  ;  it  has  lasted  without  a  shadow  of  change — 
in  me,  anyhow — since  the  first  moment  I  saw  him.  And  I 
was  married  then,  and  I  suppose  it  was  wicked  of  me  to 
care  for  him.  Well,  I  couldn't  help  it.  And  through  all 
that  time  of  misery  and  humiliation  and  loneliness,  I  knew 
that  my  only  hope  lay  there.  That  was  why  I  came  out. 
I  meant  to  make  him  marry  me." 

"  And  you  have  succeeded  ! " 

"Not  quite  yet;  but  he  won't  break  his  word  now  that 
he  has  given  it.  I  had  to  make  him  ask  me.  He  fought 
hard  against  it ;  it  was  all  my  wretched  money,  and  his 
pride,  and  to-night  we  fought  a  battle  to  the  death  over  it, 
and  I  killed  his  pride,  and  he  had  to  acknowledge  himself 
conquered." 

Clare  pressed  her  friend's  hand,  but  made  no  response. 
Gladys  knew  why  she  could  not  speak,  and  went  on  : 

"  Of  course  we  shall  be  dreadfully  poor,  but  I  shall  gefc 
him  home,  and  then  things  will  come  right  with  his  father. 
And  I  shall  wait  and  save — I  don't  mind  cheating  Mr. 
Hilditch's  heirs  that  way.  And  I've  got  a  balance  of 
nearly  two  thousand  pounds,  and  we  shall  manage  some- 
how, and  I  mustn't  buy  any  more  lace.  Clare,  darling,  I 
want  to  thank  you — to  thank  you  with  all  my  heart  for 
having  me  here,  and  giving  me  the  chance  of  getting  near 
him,  and  of  finding  out  that  he  did  love  me  after  all." 

The  women  kissed  each  other. 

"  Clare,"  whispered  Gladys.  "  Oh,  my  poor  dear,  I'm 
so  sorry  for  you  !  " 

"  There's  no  need." 

"  Yes,  there  is.  Do  you  think  I  don't  know  ?  You  and 
I  have  been  bound  by  the  same  chain,  we've  suffered  in 


366  MRS.   TREGASKISS. 

the  same  way,  and  we  both  know  the  hideousness  of  it. 
Clave,  there's  nothing  in  the  whole  universe  so  good  as 
love,  and  there's  nothing  in  the  world  so  immoral  as  living 
with  a  man  you  can't  care  for,  when  you  love  another  man. 
Listen  :  If  you  were  going  away  with  Dr.  Geneste  to-mor- 
row, and  it  wasn't  for  the  children,  I'd  say  you  were  doing 
right." 

"  And  the  children  ?  " 

Clare  spoke  as  quietly  as  though  the  affair  concerned 
another  person,  only  the  twitch  in  her  voice  betrayed  her 
emotion.  She  admitted  nothing.  Gladys  knew  that  she 
would  not  acknowledge  her  intention,  but  none  the  less  was 
Gladys  sure  of  it. 

"  The  childi'en  make  the  wrong.  Oh,  it  would  be  a 
crime — a  cruelty  to  leave  them  !  Clare  !  you  are  not  mean- 
ing  that  ?  " 

Clare  made  no  reply. 

"Think,"  pleaded  Gladys.  "He  would  marry  again. 
Think  of  poor  little  Ning  and  the  baby  !  And  a  step- 
mother— or  worse." 

Clare  shuddered,  but  still  said  nothing. 

"  Clare,"  cried  Gladys  desperately,  "  you  won't  speak  ; 
you  will  tell  me  nothing  ;  you  are  stone  outside,  but  do  you 
think  I  don't  know  that  you  are  suffering  tortures  ?  " 

"  I  am — suffering  tortures.     I  want  to  end  them." 

"  Oh,  how  can  you  fancy  that  you  will  end  them  by 
running  away  ?  The  children  will  haunt  you  to  your  life's 
end." 

Still  silence.     Gladys  went  on  : 

"  Take  them  with  you.  Go,  and  live  your  own  life  ;  you 
are  justified — if  you  go  alone.  But,  oh,  wait  for  that  other 
love-life  !  "Wait,  anyhow,  a  few  months — a  few  years.  You 
don't  knowjwhat  may  happen.  Something,  perhaps,  which 
would  put  you  in  the  right,  and  give  you  freedom.  Don't 
put  yourself  in  the  wrong  first.  Go  away  if  you  like,  but 
alone  with  the  children." 


OUTSIDE  THE  CAVE.  367 

"  You  forget  that  I  have  no  money  to  live  an  independ- 
ent life  with." 

"What  does  that  matter.  I  have  enough  to  help 
you." 

"  You  forget,  too,"  said  Clare  slowly,  "  that  they  are  my 
husband's  children,  and  that  I  have  not  the  right  to  take 
them  away  from  him." 

Gladys  made  an  impatient  gesture. 

"  He  would  not  dare  to  go  to  law." 

"  I  can't  enter  into  that.  I  suppose  there's  such  a  thing 
as  moral  right,  and  bad  as  I  may  be  in  some  ways,  I  feet 
the  justice  of  that.  He  loves  Ning  better  than  I  do. 
What  is  natural  instinct  with  him,  is — has  been  only  duty 
with  me.  Gladys,"  she  added,  "  don't  let  us  speak  of  that 
any  more.  You  are  a  good  woman,  and  a  true  friend,  and 
I  thank  you  with  my  whole  heart.  But  you  can't  judge 
for  me.  I  must  choose  my  own  path  and  go  where  it 
leads  me." 

She  got  up  as  she  spoke  from  her  leaning  posture.  It 
was  a  sign  of  dismissal.  Gladys  was  not,  perhaps,  altogether 
sorry  that  for  the  time  she  must  close  the  discussion. 
Clare  had  shut  herself  up  in  a  chamber  of  reserve  to  which 
she  could  not  penetrate.  Gladys  knew  that  Clare  must  be 
meditating  some  decisive  step, — guessed,  indeed,  what  the 
step  was, — but  had  no  idea  that  it  was  likely  to  be  put  imme- 
diately into  execution.  She  could  not  run  away  with  Dr. 
Geneste  that  night,  at  any  rate,  and  Gladys  was  herself  so 
physically  weary,  as  well  as  so  utterly  happy  in  the  glow 
of  her  new  understanding  with  Blanchard,  that  she  longed 
for  rest,  and  for  the  silent  watches  in  which  she  might 
assure  herself  of  the  reality  of  her  joy. 

"  I  see  that  you  are  tired  out,"  said  Mrs.  Tregaskiss. 
"  Go  and  sleep." 

"  I  shall  not  sleep,  but  of  course  I  am  tired.  You  must 
be  tired  too,  Clare.  Won't  you  come  and  lie  down  beside 
Nin  ix?" 


368  MRS.   TREGASKISS. 

"  No  ;  I  am  better  liere." 

"  Are  you  going  to  stay  here  all  night  ?  " 

"Perhaps.     But  the  morning  can't  be  so  very  far  off." 

"  I  don't  like  to  leave  you,  Clare." 

"  Why  not  ?  It  is  my  mania  to  enjoy  being  alone. 
Don't  trouble  about  me.  Go  and  rejoice,  as  I  do,  dear,  too, 
in  your  happiness.  Perhaps  I  shall  be  happy  as  well, 
some  day — or  when  I  am  dead,  like  poor  Mrs.  Carmody. 
She  did  her  duty  and  minded  her  children.  And  what  was 
the  use  of  it  all  ?  Duty  doesn't  pay  on  the  Leura.  Good- 
night, Gladys  !  " 

"  Good-night,  Clare  !  " 

They  kissed  again.  Gladys  was  turning  away,  but 
Clare  stopped  her  for  a  moment. 

"  I  have  never  pretended  to  be  a  good  mother  ;  and  you 
must  take  that  into  account.  But  I  have  done  my  best ; 
and  I  have  always  been  dreadfully  sorry  for  the  poor  little 
children.  Oh,  there's  something  horrible,"  she  cried,  "  in 
their  having  to  come  into  the  world,  whether  they  choose 
or  no — the  fruit  of  a  marriage  that's  not  the  sacramental 
marriage  we  used  to  talk  of  in  the  old  days.  Oh,  how  dif- 
ferent that  would  make  it  all  !  Do  you  remember,  dear, 
how  we  used  to  say  to  each  other  that  we'd  choose  the 
highest — or  nothing.  Instead  of  that  we  both  chose  the 
lowest.  Now  we  have  found  out  our  mistake;  but  you 
have  been  able  to  mend  yours,  and  I  haven't." 

"  You  will — some  day.  You'll  be  happy,  as  I  am,  some 
day — able  to  be  with  him." 

"  Perhaps.  Yes,  probably  I  shall  be  with  him,  some  day. 
But  that  doesn't  alter  the  fact  that  the  poor  little  children 
were  brought  wrongly  into  the  world.  They  are  children 

of  sin  and  shame  ;  worse  off  than  if For  when  they've 

come  through  love,  their  mother  must  have  a  different 
feeling  for  them  ;  and  that's  just  the  wrong  in  me.  Well, 
I  suppose  God  knows  all  about  it.  He  should  care  for 
them  and  put  the  wrong  right,  and  raise  friends  for  them 


OUTSIDE  THE   CAVE.  369 

better  than  their  wicked  mothers.  Gladys,  I  just  wanted 
to  ask  3'ou  to  think  of  that  when — when  you've  got  chil- 
dren of  your  own.  I  just  wanted  to  say If  anything 

should  happen  to  me,  and  it  ever  comes  in  your  way,  you'll 
be  kind,  won't  you,  to  my  Ning  and  baby  ?  " 


CHAPTER  XXXI. 

THE    PENALTY. 

THROUGH  the  hours  Clare  Tregaskiss  remained  half  lying, 
half  crouching  in  the  hollow  beside  the  cave.  She  had,  in  a 
mechanical  fashion,  prepared  herself  for  the  night,  piling 
up  against  the  wall  of  rock  the  leaves  and  grass  Gladys 
had  brought,  thus  making  a  sort  of  cushion  upon  which 
she  reclined,  the  blanket  spread  over  it  and  her  waterproof 
covering  her  knees.  The  mosquitoes,  having  scant  shelter 
of  herbage  just  here,  were  not  so  troublesome  as  down  on 
the  grassy  plateau,  or  perhaps  she  did  not  feel  them. 
Anyhow,  she  untied  the  veil  she  had  fastened  round  her 
head  and  face,  and  stayed  during  the  night  bareheaded,  and 
with  wide  eyes  staring  out  over  the  desolate  bush. 

The  scene  harmonised  with  her  mood.  It  was  her 
impulse  always,  when  she  was  wretched  or  torn  by  rebellious 
longings,  to  make  for  the  wildest  and  lonliest  spot  she 
could  find.  To-night  she  was  so  physically  exhausted  and 
so  wrought  up  mentally  that  she  was  barely  conscious  of 
material  facts.  She  had  a  grewsome  fancy  of  herself  as  one 
walking  on  the  edge  of  a  precipice,  the  pledge  to  Geneste 
her  foothold,  as  it  were,  the  thought  of  her  children  and  of 
the  life  she  was  going  to  give  up,  t3:pified  in  the  black 
vacuum  below,  from  which,  to  save  herself,  she  must  keep 
away  her  eyes  and  her  mind,  but  which  was  always  horribly 
present.  Everything  else  was  a  confusion  of  sounds  and 
of  dim  images,  except  the  light  of  Ge"neste's  camp,  and  the 
thrilling  consciousness  of  that  steel-like,  invisible  chain 
binding  their  two  beings  together.  Sometimes  Ning's 
solemn  dark  eyes  would  shine  out  of  the  gulf,  and  then  she 

870 


THE  PENALTY.  371 

would  wince  and  totter,  and  in  terror  draw  herself  together 
and  turn  her  own  eyes  inward.  Sometimes  she  would 
fancy  that  she  heard  King's  voice  in  its  quaint  half  aborig- 
inal utterances  raised  in  accents  of  pain  and  distress,  and 
at  such  moments  would  have  difficulty  in  assuring  herself 
that  on  the  other  side  of  the  rocky  wall  Ning  lay  soundly 
sleeping. 

It  was  not  strange  that  uncanny  fancies  should  have 
visited  her,  for  the  ghostly  scene  and  the  night  sounds  were 
enough  to  make  stout  nerves  creep.  The  bush  was  full  of 
weird  gurglings  and  rustlings,  and  an  impression  of  mystery 
and  of  the  illimitable  seemed  breathed  from  among  the  deso- 
late stretches,  the  moon-made  shadows,  the  straight  bare 
stems  of  the  gum  trees,  the  dark  clumps  of  gidia,  and  the 
gray  upheaved  boulders.  The  "  hop-hop  "  of  wallabies  came 
from  among  the  fallen  timber  in  the  gorge  behind  her  ; 
there  was  the  shrill  chirrup  of  the  tree  frog,  and  there 
were  throaty  noises  from  nameless  reptiles,  making  for  the 
pool  below  the  cave.  Here  some  white-barked,  crooked 
trees  bent  like  ghosts  over  the  water,  upon  whose  inky 
blackness  the  moon  cast  a  feeble  ray,  giving  a  new  touch 
of  dread  to  the  scene.  She  could  hear  the  heavy  flapping 
of  flying-foxes'  wings  ;  from  the  scrub  came  the  dismal 
howling  of  dingoes,  and  nearer,  the  curlews'  wail.  That 
sound,  which  for  a  second  she  fancied  to  be  Ning's  voice 
calling  "  Mummy  !  "  was  from  the  native  bear,  which  has 
a  cry  like  a  child.  The  moon  went  slowly  down,  and  by 
and  by  she  must  have  slept  a  little,  for  she  woke  to  see 
that  faint  grayness  on  the  edge  of  the  sky  which  heralds 
dawn,  and  to  hear  the  more-pork  giving  its  early  note,  and 
the  long  derisive  chuckle  of  the  laughing  jackass. 

She  watched  the  day  break,  heard  the  rousing  of  the 
black  boys  when  they  went  after  the  horses,  and  then,  stiff 
and  aching,  got  up  and  stole  round  to  the  entrance  of  the 
cave.  She  fancied  they  might  think  it  strange  that  she 
should  have  been  out  all  night,  and  thought  that  she  would 


372  MRS.  TREGASKISS. 

lie  down  and  make  a  pretence  of  having  slept  like  the  rest. 
But  the  unconquerable  dread  she  had  of  meeting  Ning's 
eyes  and  hearing  the  child's  prattle  held  her  back  ;  and, 
instead,  she  went  down  the  rocks  to  a  lonely  pool,  an  out- 
let of  the  larger  pool,  where  she  washed,  did  her  hair,  and 
got  rid  of  some  of  the  traces  of  her  vigil.  The  sun  was 
quite  up  by  the  time  she  had  finished,  and  she  was  mount- 
ing the  rocks  again  when  she  heard  a  call  from  the  cave, 
"Ning  !  Ning  !  "  and  then  her  own  name  in  Gladys'  voice, 
"  Clare  ! " 

She  quickened  her  steps.  Gladys  met  her  before  she 
reached  the  cave.  The  tarpaulin  was  drawn  back,  and 
Helen  Cusack  and  her  sisters  stood  before  the  entrance. 
Clare,  in  her  dazed  way,  noticed  that  they  looked  alarmed. 

"  Have  you  got  Ning  with  you  ? "  Gladys  asked.  She 
spoke  sharply,  and  her  eyes  had  a  frightened  expression. 

"  Ning  !  "  cried  Mrs.  Tregaskiss,  startled.  "  No  ;  I  have 
not  seen  her.  Is  she  not  in  the  cave  ?  " 

"  We  can't  find  her,"  answered  Gladys.  "  I  thought 
you  might  have  come  in  when  we  were  asleep  and  taken 
her  out." 

"  No  ;  she  is  in  bed,"  said  Clare,  turning  white  with  an 
undefined  fear. 

"  I  don't  believe  she  has  been  in  bed  all  night,"  cried 
Gladys.  "The  blanket  looks  as  if  it  had  never  been 
disturbed.  There  was  a  roll  of  waterproofs  and  things 
on  it,  and  that  made  me  think  she  was  there.  It  was  so 
dark  in  the  cave  ;  and  I  never  looked  closely." 

The  Cusack  children  joined  in.  They  had  been  so  tired 
that  they  had  tumbled  into  bed  without  thinking  of  Ning. 
Miss  Lawford  spoke  of  how  the  child  had  begged  her 
father  to  look  for  Gerda's  witch  with  her,  and  how  he  had 
sent  her  back  to  bed.  Not  one  of  them  had  seen  Ning 
since  then  ;  there  were  no  traces  of  her  in  the  cave  :  the 
obvious  inference  was  that  she  had  never  been  back. 

As  she  listened,  blackness  came  over  Clare — the  black- 


THE  PENALTY.  373 

ness  of  the  inn  at  Cedar  Hill,  when  she  had  wakened  to 
the  sight  of  Geneste.  She  tottered  against  the  rock,  and 
the  blood  seemed  to  rush  away  from  her  body.  In  a  few 
seconds  the  blackness  passed,  her  heart  beat  quickly,  and  a 
tingling  came  into  her  limbs  as  the  blood  flowed  again. 
Gladys  was  supporting  her,  and  Helen  was  at  her  other 
side.  By  a  kind  of  divination  she  knew  tha.t  some  awful 
thing  had  occurred,  and  that  she  had  called  down  a  doom 
upon  her  child.  Gladys  and  Helen  heard  her  say,  in  a 
terrible  sort  of  inward  whisper  :  "  God  has  punished  me. 
He  has  killed  King." 

"  Oh,  Mrs.  Tregaskiss  !  don't  be  frightened  ;  it's  sure  to 
be  all  right,  and  I  expect  she  is  just  playing  round,"  said 
Helen.  "  Or  perhaps  she  has  gone  to  one  of  the  other 
camps.  I'll  run  and  see." 

Helen  flew  to  the  nearest  of  the  camps,  where  Tregaskiss, 
just  risen  from  his  blankets,  was  rating  a  black  boy  for  hav- 
ing let  one  of  the  horses  stray.  Shand,  the  Gulf  man,  and 
Martin  Cusack  were  kindling  a  fire,  and  making  prepara- 
tions for  the  baking  of  johnny-cakes,  while  Geneste  and 
BlancharJ  filled  the  billies  with  water. 

"  Ning  !  My  good  God  !  she's  gone  ;  and  has  lost  her- 
self !  "  cried  Tregaskiss,  horror-stricken,  when  Helen  told 
him  how  the  child  was  missing.  "  I  sent  her  back  to  bed 
when  we  went  shooting  last  night.  I  haven't  seen  her 
since." 

It  was  the  same  story  with  all.  No  one  had  beheld  Ning 
since  she  had  called  after  her  father,  and  he  had  told  her 
it  was  time  for  pickaninnies  to  be  asleep.  Everybody  who 
had  thought  about  her  at  all,  had  supposed  that  she  had 
put  herself  to  bed,  as  was  her  habit  at  home.  Those  who 
had  thought  of  her,  upon  going  into  the  cave,  seeing  in  the 
dim  moonlight  the  bundle  upon  her  blanket,  in  the  recess, 
had  imagined  it  to  be  Ning  herself,  coiled  up  in  profound 
slumber.  Besides,  they  had  of  course  expected  that  her 
mother  would  be  beside  her.  When  Tregaskiss  learned 


374  MRS.  TREGASKISS. 

that  Clare  had  not  slept  in  the  cave,  his  mad  anger  knew 
no  bounds.  He  uttered  words  which  were  not  pleasant 
for  bystanders  to  hear.  Meanwhile  the  gorge  rang  with 
coo-ees,  and  calls  of  "  Ning,  Ning  ! "  Miss  Lawford, 
glad  to  escape  from  the  scene  between  Tregaskiss  and  his 
wife,  rushed  with  the  Cusack  girls,  peering  into  impossible 
crannies.  Helen  and  Martin  searched  more  systematically 
round  the  plateau.  Clare,  herself,  was  like  one  upon  whom 
a  doom  has  fallen,  and  who  knows  there  is  no  use  in  resist- 
ance. She  bore  her  husband's  reproaches  with  perfect 
quietness,  not  stirring  a  muscle,  still  and  stony  as  though 
the  nerves  of  hearing  and  sensation  had  been  paralysed. 

"  Have  you  no  feeling  at  all,  that  you  stand  there  like  a 
marble  statue?"  roared  Tregaskiss,  who  had  completely 

lost  his  head.  "By  G d  !  if  anything  has  happened  to 

the  Pickaninny  through  your  neglect,  I'll  never  speak  to 
you  or  look  on  your  face  again.  As  for  me,  I'd  as  soon  be 
dead  and  done  for,  as  lose  the  Pickaninny  !  " 

Geneste  and  Blanchard  stepped  up  to  him.  Ambrose 
spoke  first : 

"  Look  here,  Mr.  Tregaskiss  !  it  isn't  as  bad  as  all  that  ; 
and  this  isn't  the  way  to  take  it.  Mrs.  Tregaskiss  is  no 
more  to  blame  than  you  or  I,  or  any  of  us.  The  child  will 
be  found  again  all  right,  you  may  be  certain  ;  she  has  just 
strayed  and  lost  herself,  and  we've  got  to  lose  no  time  in 
looking  for  her.  Let's  settle  at  once  what  to  do." 

"  We  had  better  divide  into  search  parties,"  said 
Geneste.  "  Each  one  should  take  a  black  boy,  except,  per- 
haps, myself  and  Martin  Cusack.  He's  a  good  tracker, 
and  I'm  used  to  it." 

"I'll  back  Geneste  to  track  a  skitter  across  running 
water,"  cried  the  Gulf  man. 

Tregaskiss  bestirred  himself  with  feverish  activity. 
Geneste  took  command,  and  presently  the  horses  were 
saddled,  and  the  search  parties  started.  Tregaskiss  fore- 
most. Soon  every  person  of  that  pleasure  expedition  was 


THE  PENALTY.  375 

scouring  range,  gullies,  and  flats,  and  lake  shore  for  little 
Ning. 

The  ladies  of  the  party  and  the  new  chums  kept  near  the 
gorge  and  scoui'ed  the  ground,  going  in  line  to  and  fro 
among  the  gullies,  shouting  as  they  went,  but  no  answer- 
ing call  came,  and  there  was  no  sign  of  the  child.  Then 
they  went  toward  the  lake,  but  to  no  avail.  At  one  o'clock 
a  black  boy  among  the  searchers  struck  a  track  for  about 
ten  yards  on  the  old  Eungella  road,  and  then  again,  for 
about  a  hundred  yards  on  a  cattle-path, — just  two  tiny  boot- 
marks, — but  it  was  lost  again  completely.  The  tracks  ran 
inland  from  the  lake  and  were  a  long  way  from  the  camp, 
telling  a  pathetic  tale  of  the  poor  baby's  night  wanderings. 
They  made  these  tracks  the  point  of  a  fresh  start  in  all  the 
directions  round.  Blanchard  rode  back  with  the  news,  and 
Gladys  and  Helen  and  even  Miss  Lawford  wept  with  joy, 
for  now  they  felt  sure  Ning  would  be  found.  But  Clare 
did  not  shed  a  tear  or  give  a  smile,  nor  did  she  show  any 
anxiety  in  putting  together  food  and  a  blanket  in  which  to 
wrap  the  child  when  they  should  come  upon  her.  She  had 
been  walking  aimlessly,  her  face  a  mask  of  despair,  walk- 
ing because  she  could  not  sit  still,  not  with  any  hope. 

"  I  know  that  Ning  is  dead,"  she  said,  in  her  stony  voice. 
"  There  is  no  use  in  taking  food,  she  will  not  need  it.  But 
I  should  like  to  have  her  little  dead  body,  so  that  the  din- 
goes and  wild  birds  may  not  hurt  it." 

Her  calmness  was  terrible  ;  she  did  not  shudder  like  the 
rest  at  the  suggestion. 

"  Ambrose,  I  think  she  is  going  mad,"  whispered  Gladys  ; 
"she  never  says  a  word,  only  walks,  walks,  with  that 
awful  set  face.  What  can  we  do?" 

"  We  will  bring  the  child,  please  God,  before  many 
hours  are  over,  and  that  is  all  we  can  do,"  he  answered. 
"  If  only  there  were  a  station  near  where  we  could  get 
search  hands  and  fresh  horses  !  There  are  so  few  of  us. 
Geneste  is  tracking  like  a  black  fellow  or  a  red  Indian,  and 


376  MRS.   TREGASKISS. 

Tregaskiss  will  not  let  tlie  black  boys  stop  for  a  moment, 
though  he  is  so  wild  with  grief  that  he  is  not  of  much  use 
himself.  The  child  must  be  saved  if  it  is  within  human 
possibility." 

He  rode  away  again,  and  there  were  more  interminable 
hours  of  waiting.  All  they  could  do  still  was  to  wander 
and  shout  and  make  fires  on  the  hills,  which  should  attract 
the  little  creature  if  she  were  hidden  in  one  of  the  ravines 
near.  No  one  came  back  that  night  from  the  outside 
searchers.  The  night  was  passed  in  that  aimless  wander- 
ing, and  in  broken  snatches  of  sleep  taken  in  relays,  the 
watchers  starting  at  cries  of  curlews  or  native  bear,  in  the 
fancy  that  it  might  be  the  voice  of  the  child.  The  country 
blazed  with  the  fires  they  had  lighted,  and  some  went 
down  to  the  lake  shore, — the  distraught  mother  among 
them, — and  covered  miles  along  the  sand.  But  there  was 
no  Ning. 

In  the  morning  after  the  second  night,  Tregaskiss  crawled 
up  to  the  camp,  lame,  his  feet  cut  by  the  stones  through 
his  boots,  his  hands,  bleeding,  and  his  eyes  wild  and  blood- 
shot. He  had  been  tracking  on  foot  by  moonlight  and  had 
lost  himself,  till  he  had  been  able  to  strike  the  gorge  at 
daybreak.  Now  he  had  come  for  one  of  the  lady's  horses, 
for  their  own  were  knocking  up.  Clare  was  still  wander- 
ing by  the  lake  shore,  and  perhaps  it  was  well  that  she  did 
not  see  her  husband,  for  her  heart  would  only  have  been 
harrowed  the  more.  Helen  and  Miss  Lawford  brought 
him  some  damper  and  beef,  and  he  ate  it  mechanically, 
taking  no  notice  of  either  of  them  in  words,  but  Helen 
fancied  that  he  turned  away  from  Miss  Lawford  with 
something  like  a  shudder.  He  was  curiously  subdued,  and 
there  was  an  expression  upon  his  face,  in  all  its  wild  ness, 
almost  solemnising — a  faint  reflection  of  that  look  which 
Paul  of  Tarsus  must  have  worn  when  he  came  back  to 
Damascus  blind.  What  had  been  his  thoughts  during 
those  lonely  hours  no  one  knew,  but  Gladys  parti}7  guessed 


THE  PENALTY.  377 

them.  He  came  up  to  her  while  they  were  catching  and 
saddling  Helen's  horse. 

"  I  don't  want  to  see  my  wife,"  he  said,  "  but  you  can 
tell  her  I'm  sorry  that  I  spoke  to  her  as  I  did.  I  am  as 
much  to  blame  as  she  is  for  Ning's  death.  Yes,  Mrs.  Hil- 
ditch,  Ning  is  dead."  He  fixed  his  eyes,  with  their  strange 
spiritualised  expression,  on  Gladys'  face,  and  she  wondered 
if  this  were  in  truth  the  old  Tregaskiss,  his  features  seemed 
to  have  so  curiously  sharpened,  and  all  his  bloated  looks  and 
coarseness  to  have  disappeared.  "  She  came  to  me  last 
night,  out  in  the  bush,"  he  went  on.  "  I  saw  her  as  plain 
as  I  see  you.  She  stood  in  front  of  me  and  held  out  her 
little  arms  and  then  she  vanished.  She  held  out  her  little 

arms "  he  repeated  huskily.  "  She  was  always  fond  of 

her  daddy — the  Pickaninny "  His  voice  broke  alto- 
gether, and  the  great  fellow  gave  a  choking  cry,  and 
flinging  himself  forward  with  his  head  upon  his  arms, 
heaved  and  shook  in  an  agony  of  uncontrollable  grief. 
"  I — I — can't  bear  it,"  he  sobbed.  "  I  doted — on  the 
Pickaninny " 

Gladys  sobbed  too,  it  was  as  much  at  the  sight  of  his 
grief  as  for  the  Pickaninny.  He  looked  utterly  broken, 
and  she  guessed  that  the  enforced  abstinence  from  stimu- 
lant for  so  many  hours  had  something  to  do  with  his  shat- 
tered condition.  She  brought  him  some  brandy,  but  to  her 
great  surprise  he  took  the  pannikin  and  dashed  it  to  the 
ground. 

"  No  more  of  that  for  me,"  he  said.  "  I've  drunk  my 
last  drop  of  grog,  and  I'm  done  forever  with  it — and  with 
other  things  too.  Something  came  over  me  last  night, 
Mrs.  Hilditch,  that  has  made  a  changed  man  of  me." 

Gladys  wondered,  but  she  did  not  speak.  Tregaskiss 
got  up  and  shouted  with  one  of  his  old  oaths  to  the  black 
boy  to  be  quick  with  the  horse. 

"She's  dead,"  he  murmured,  "but  I've  got  to  find  her. 
It  kills  me  to  think  of  my  Pickaninny's  pretty  face,  and 


378  MRS.   TREGASKISS. 

perhaps  the  dingoes "     Again  lie  gave  a  great  sob,  and 

his  hand  and  arm  shook  as  he  drew  the  reins  tight  in 
order  to  mount.  "  You  may  tell  Clare,"  he  said,  bend- 
ing down,  "  that  I'm  a  changed  man.  Before  Heaven,  I 
mean  it !  " 


CHAPTER  XXXII. 

"  THE    WOULD    BETWEEN    US." 

GLADYS  had  a  good  cry  to  herself.  She  told  Helen 
Cusack  what  had  happened,  and  the  two  looked  for  Clare, 
who  was  walking  along  the  shore  of  the  lake  in  a  dreary, 
mechanical  way,  with  a  fixed  vacant  stare  on  the  ground, 
which  showed  plainly  that  she  had  given  up  all  hope,  if, 
indeed,  she  had  ever  had  any. 

Later  on,  Helen  came  upon  Miss  Lawford  lying,  her  face 
to  the  ground,  in  passionate  tears. 

Ambrose  Blanch ard  rode  into  camp  in  the  afternoon, 
faint,  worn,  and  dispirited.  The  tracks  had  come  to  noth- 
ing, and  there  was  still  no  trace  of  the  child.  He  had  been 
searching  during  the  night  as  long  as  the  moon  lasted,  and 
the  others  had  gone  forth  again,  but  now  all  were  becom- 
ing hopeless,  and  they  had  no  expectation  of  finding  Ning 
alive.  Geneste,  he  said,  had  more  than  once  struck  tracks, 
but  had  lost  them  again.  He  had  never  stopped  to  sleep, 
eat,  or  rest.  Fortunately  they  had  met  with  a  party  of 
fencers,  and  had  been  able  to  get  two  fresh  horses  and 
more  hands.  One  of  the  fencers  had  gone  to  give  the 
alarm  at  the  bush  township  of  Eungella,  and  to  call  out 
the  police.  Ambrose  came  now  to  see  how  the  ladies  and 
the  new  chum  in  charge  of  them  were  getting  on  for  pro- 
visions, and  to  consult  as  to  the  advisability  of  their  mak- 
ing for  Darra-Darra.  They,  too,  were  almost  worn  out, 
and  Gladj^s  was  deeply  alarmed  for  Clare,  who  kept  always 
the  same  marble  face,  and  did  nothing  but  walk  in  that 
mechanical,  chained-beast  fashion.  She  would  not  hear, 
however,  of  leaving  the  place. 

25  m 


380  MRS.   TREGASKISS. 

"I  know  that  Ning  is  dead,"  she  repeated,  "but  I  will 
not  go  away  till  they  have  buried  her." 

Her  composure  was  that  of  a  mad  woman,  and  Blanchard 
grew  frightened  also.  Gladys  was  .fretted  to  a  shadow, 
but  held  out  bravely,  and  smiled  at  him  radiantly  :  happi- 
ness is  an  effective  spur  to  heroism.  Helen,  too,  though  her 
pretty  freshness  had  gone,  was  self-collected  and  grandly 
devoted,  taking  turns  with  Gladj's  to  watch,  if  from  a  dis- 
tance, poor  distraught  Clare. 

It  was  hysterical  little  Miss  Lawford  who  showed  the 
white  feather.  She  wept  profusely,  and  wildly  entreated 
to  be  taken  home.  What  was  the  use  of  her  staying  ?  She 
could  do  no  good  to  poor  little  Ning.  She  wras  dying  of 
terror,  and  she  knew  that  Mr.  Tregaskiss  had  turned 
against  her,  and  blamed  her  for  the  loss  of  the  child.  She 
had  done  nothing,  she  declared,  to  be  treated  so.  Mrs. 
Cusack  would  be  uneasy,  too,  about  the  children,  and  what 
was  to  hinder  their  being  murdered  by  blacks  in  that  lonely, 
unprotected  camp  ?  Might  they  not  have  a  black  boy,  or 
one  of  the  gentlemen  who  knew  the  way,  and  be  taken  to 
Darra-Darra  ? 

"You  know  the  black  boys  are  more  valuable  than  any 
of  us  as  trackers,"  said  Blanchard.  "I  wish  to  Heaven  we 
could  spare  somebody,"  he  added,  in  an  aside  to  Helen, 
"  and  get  rid  of  her."  Whereupon  Helen,  roused  to  gentle 
wrath,  rebuked  the  governess  so  sternly  for  her  selfish 
want  of  consideration  that  Miss  Lawford  retired  abashed, 
shrieking  that  no  one  knew  what  she  was  suffering  and 
how  her  heart  was  broken,  and  hid  herself  in  the  cave, 
where  she  gave  way  to  a  prolonged  bout  of  sobbing.  By 
•what  she  called  afterward  a  "  miraculous  coincidence," 
deliverance  came  just  after  Blanchard  had  gone,  in  the 
shape  of  her  old  admirer,  the  land  commissioner,  who,  hav- 
ing heard  the  sad  news  from  the  fencer  on  his  wav  to 

~  •* 

Eungella,  had  left  the  men  with  him  to  help  in  the  search, 
and   at   Geneste's  instance  had  hurried  on  to  the  camp. 


"THE   WORLD  BETWEEN  US."  381 

'Gillespie  came  with  the  commissioner  ;  lie  was  not  a  good 
enough  bushman  to  be  of  great  service  to  the  seekers,  and 
not  in  health  for  continued  exertion  and  hardship.  He 
had  a  word  of  good  news.  Two  black  boys  from  Eungella, 
who  were  noted  trackers,  had  joined  the  party  ;  they  had 
found  a  clue  in  the  shape  of  some  remnants  of  King's  gar- 
ments, and  one  little  boot,  and  it  was  probable  that  the 
end  was  now  near. 

The  land  commissioner  saw  his  opportunity,  and  seized 
it.  Woebegone  and  dishevelled  as  she  was,  Miss  Law  ford 
seemed  to  him  more  attractive  in  her  pleading  helplessness 
than  when  confident  and  tricked  out  in  her  showy  finery. 
He  was  thrilled  to  the  heart  by  the  way  in  which  she  clung 
to  him.  He  was  a  good  bushman,  and  knew  the  road,  and 
there  was  no  reason  why  he  should  not  escort  her  and  the 
two  Cusack  girls  to  Darra  Darra  at  once.  Helen  indig- 
nantly refused  to  accompany  them  ;  but  though  Minnie 
and  Tottie  rebelled,  and  protested  that  it  was  cowardly  to 
leave  the  others  in  their  distress,  this  was  obviously  the 
wisest  course,  and  so  the  commissioner  had  the  horses 
saddled,  and  the  four  rode  away,  to  the  relief  of  those  who 
remained. 

That  afternoon  nature  asserted  herself.  Clare  fainted  in 
her  restless  tramp,  and  was  for  a  long  time  unconscious. 
About  sundown  the  thud  of  horses'  feet  sounded  in  the 
gorge,  and  one  by  one,  winding  down  the  range,  a  strag- 
gling line  of  riders  appeared.  Geneste,  torn,  unshaven, 
bent,  having  become,  as  it  were,  an  old  man  in  those  three 
days,  was  foremost.  He  carried  no  burden  ;  there  was  not 
a  coo-ee  uttered,  and  the  silence  and  his  miserable  face 
told  Helen,  who  saw  them  first,  only  too  surely  that  the 
search  was  ended,  and  that  Ning  would  never  come  back 
again. 

She  ran  to  meet  him  ;  she  was  practically  alone  in  the 
camp,  for  Clare  Tregaskiss  was  lying  in  a  half  stupor  in 
the  cave  with  Gladys  watching  her,  and  Harold  Gillespie, 


382  MRS.   TREGASKISS. 

had  gone  upon  a  last  despairing  limit  in  the  crannies  of  the 
gorge.  Geneste  dismounted  at  the  foot  of  the  range,  and 
tried  to  meet  Helen,  but  he  staggered  against  a  rock,  and 
she  saw  that  he  was  completely  exhausted  and  unmanned. 
No  wonder  !  Apart  from  the  anxiety  and  remorse  he  had 
been  enduring,  he  had  not  taken  off  his  clothes,  had  not 
slept,  and  had  scarcely  eaten  for  two  nights  and  three  days. 
He  could  hardly  speak,  but  clasped  Helen's  hand  as  though 
he  found  comfort  in  the  pressure. 

"  How  is  she  ?  "  he  asked  presently. 

Helen  knew  whom  he  meant. 

"  She  fainted,  and  seems  only  half  conscious  now.  She 
walked  and  walked,  all  day  and  night.  I  thought  she 
would  go  mad.  Perhaps  this  is  the  best  thing  for  her." 

"Yes — if  one  could  keep  her  unconscious.  My  God!" 
he  groaned,  "  it's  too  horrible  !  " 

"The  child? "-Helen  asked.  "She  will  not  go  away 
from  here  till  they  have  brought  her." 

He  gave  a  convulsive  shudder.  "  We  had  to  bury  her. 
It's  too  horrible — I  can't  tell  her.  She  mustn't  know. 
Can't  you  understand  ?  We  couldn't  bring  it  here.  Death 
must  have  come  the  second  day.  We  think  it  may  have 
been  a  snake  bite.  The  body "  He  broke  off,  shud- 
dering again.  "  I'm  a  strong  man,"  he  said,  "  and  as  a 
doctor  I've  seen  bad  sights,  but  this  one  has  utterly 
knocked  me  over,  and  you  must  forgive  me." 

Helen  was  crying.  The  other  men  who  had  followed 
Geneste  kept  back.  They  had  dismounted  some  little  way 
off,  and  now  quietly  led  their  horses  down  the  plateau  to 
avoid  startling  the  miserable  mother  by  the  sounds  of  their 
return.  Helen  looked  for  Tregaskiss  ;  he  was  not  among 
them.  Geneste  answered  her  unspoken  question.  "  The 
father?  We  left  him — at  the  grave.  He  was  stretched 
out  upon  it ;  he  would  not  move — calling  out  for  his 
'  Pickaninny.'  I," — he  gave  a  sort  of  gulp, — "  I  never 
in  all  my  life  felt  so  sorry  for  another  man  as  I  felt  for 


"THE  WORLD  BETWEEN   US."  383 

Tregaskiss.  And  I  never,"  he  added  in  a  lower  tone,  turn- 
ing away,  "  I  never  so  hated  myself." 

They  walked  down  to  the  tent.  "I  want  to  try  and  get 
a  little  more  like  myself,"  he  said  wearily.  "  I — I  have 
something  to  give  her.  All  that  is  left  of  the  child. 
Helen,  I  think  you  must  know  what  I  feel — what  she  feels? 
The  sting  of  it  !  It's  best  that  she  should  hear  the  worst 
from  me.  God  help  me  to  comfort  her  !  " 

A  revulsion  that  was  terrible  in  its  intensity  came  over 
Helen.  Her  heart  had  so  gone  forth  to  him  !  She  had 
so  pitied  him  ;  she  had  longed  like  a  sister  to  console  him  ! 
In  the  tragedy  of  these  last  days,  she  had  almost  ceased  to 
think  of  him  as  Mrs.  Tregaskiss'  lover.  And  now — the 
thought  of  the  father  stretched  on  his  child's  grave  ;  the 
remembrance  of  what  Gladys  had  told  her  of  his  declara- 
tion that  he  was  a  changed  man  ;  and  then  the  picture  of 
the  wife,  the  bereaved  mother  consoled  by — her  lover  !  It 
was  too  jarring ;  it  was  against  nature.  Such  things  had 
no  right  to  be.  And  through  it  all  she  loved  him  ;  and 
she  had  something  of  the  inconsistent  mother  element 
mingling  with  the  love  element  that  there  is  in  every  pure 
•woman,  toward  the  man  of  her  heart  ;  the  mother-longing 
to  guard  and  snatch  him  from  sin  and  danger.  At  that 
moment  she  would  almost  have  laid  down  her  life  to  save 
Geneste  from  Clare  Tregaskiss. 

He  felt  the  revulsion  in  her  as  she  abruptly  moved 
from  his  side. 

"  Ah,  you  don't  understand  !     Yon  think  it  abominable." 

She  did  not  answer. 

"  It's  all  wrong,"  he  said.  "  Yes,  I  know  that.  I've  no 
right  to  expect  that  you  would  understand  ;  you  are  too 
good  for  that  kind  of  thing." 

She  left  him  without  a  word. 

Clare  Tregaskiss  was  sitting  in  the  cave  when  Geneste 
came  into  it.  Gladys  had  met  him  at  the  entrance,  and  had 
left  them  to  be  alone  together.  Clare  was  sitting  on  a  sort  of 


384  MRS.   TREGASKISS. 

coucli  they  had  made  for  her  of  piled  up  blankets  and  leaves, 
in  the  recess  where  she  and  Ning  were  to  have  slept.  The 
light,  subdued  by  the  half-drawn  tarpaulin,  and  screened 
from  her  by  a  projecting  piece  of  rock,  was  so  dim  that  at 
first  he  was  hardly  able  to  see  the  ravages  which  those 
awful  days  had  made  in  her.  Then,  as  he  came  closer  and 
looked  into  her  face,  he  was  filled  with  a  compunction  so 
vast  and  overwhelming,  that  for  the  moment  it  swallowed 
up  the  sense  of  their  relation  to  each  other,  and  all  the  more 
personal  part  of  his  love,  so  that  there  seemed  no  room  for 
any  emotion  but  that  of  immense  pity.  Her  look  terrified 
him.  The  lips  were  set  in  a  travesty  of  her  old  still  smile  ; 
her  features  were  pinched  and  bloodless  ;  her  eyes  stared 
and  burned  out  of  red  sockets.  She  was  perfectly  calm, 
but  it  was  the  calmness  of  frenzy. 

"  I  am  glad  you  have  come,"  she  said,  as  though  she 
were  receiving  an  ordinary  visitor.  "  It  is  quite  fitting 
that  you  should  be  the  one  to  tell  me  of  my  punishment, 
since  it  is  through  you  that  it  has  fallen  upon  me." 

Her  manner  frightened  him.  He  made  an  inarticulate 
exclamation,  and  half  stretched  out  his  arms,  but  he  dared 
not  approach  nearer. 

"You  see,"  she  went  on,  "God  has  dealt  me  the  full 
punishment.  It  is  not  only  that  he  killed  Ning,  but  he 
has  given  her  to  be  devoured  by  the  wild  beasts,  so  that 
there  is  nothing  of  her  I  can  keep,  even  in  memory.  I  can 
never  think  of  her  poor  little  face  and  her  pretty  soft  limbs 
without — seeing " 

Her  voice  hardly  faltered,  but  a  spasm  of  the  muscles 
prevented  her  utterance.  She  closed  her  eyes,  and  for 
a  moment  he  saw  a  wave  of  shuddering  horror  pass 
over  her  tense  features.  He  groaned  in  anguish  at  her 
agony. 

"  Oh — how "  he  began,  and  then  could  not  put 

into  wdrds  what  she  had  divined. 

"  No  one  told  me.     I  knew.     That's  what  I  was  waiting 


"THE  WORLD   BETWEEN  US."  385 

for.  I  said  to  myself  that  if  God  gave  me  back  the  body 
of  my  child,  it  would  be  a  sign  to  me  that  I  should  be  for- 
given. But  you  see,  there  is  more  to  come.  I  swore  by 
my  duty  to  my  children.  I  have  broken  my  oath,  and  I 
must  pay  the  full  penalty." 

"  Clare,  my  poor  darling.  Your  mind  is  unhinged  by 
sorrow.  You  must  not  look  upon  this  terrible  thing  which 
has  befallen  us  in  that  light.  Surely  God  is  not  less  merci- 
ful than  man.  This  is  not  retribution  ;  it  is  not  punish- 
ment for  sin.  There  was  no  sin.  The  accident  must  have 
happened " 

"  Do  you  know  how  it  happened  ;  there  was  no  accident 
in  it."  Her  eyes  through  the  dimness  were  like  fires 
scorching  him.  "  I  was  sitting  there  waiting  for  you.  I 
was  thinking  of  you — only  of  you.  I  would  not  listen  to 
the  child  ;  I  would  not  look  at  her — she  reminded  me  of 
her  father.  I  told  her  to  go  awa}'.  My  last  words  to  her 
were  angry  words.  Oh,  dear  Heaven  !  did  she  think  of 
them  when  she  called  out  to  me  in  her  wandering  that 
night  !  I  put  her  out  of  my  mind,  and  you  and  I  talked 
of  our  love.  Perhaps  she  was  hesitating  then  whether  to 
go  on  further.  Perhaps  while  you  held  me  in  your  arms, 
and  we  kissed  each  other,  she  was  saying  to  herself, 
'  Mummy  doesn't  want  me.'  /  didn't  want  her !  I  was 
going  to  leave  her  altogether.  It  was  my  thought  that 
determined  her  to  wander  on.  Our  thoughts  are  forces  to 
move  people.  When  I  gave  you  that  promise  and  threw 
away  my  cross,  I  made  it  impossible  for  her  to  turn  back. 
She'd  have  come  back  if  I  hadn't  thrown  away  the  cross. 
She'd  have  been  saved  if  only  I  had  gone  into  the  cave,  for 
I  should  have  missed  her — if  I  had  only  repented  and  gone 
in.  But  I  wouldn't  go,  because  I  was  a  guilty  woman,  and 
I  didn't  dare  to  look  into  my  child's  innocent  face.  -You 
know  I  sat  outside  all  the  night.  And  I  wouldn't  let 
myself  think  of  her  ;  I  wouldn't  listen  when  she  called  to 
me — I  could  hear  her  calling,  and  I  told  myself  it  was  the 


386  MRS.   TREGASKISS. 

curlews.  I  hardened  my  lieart.  And  I  am  a  wicked 
woman  ;  and  God  lias  punished  me." 

She  rose  to  her  full  height  as  she  spoke,  and  lifted  her 
arms  in  a  tragic  gesture  which  told  of  the  extremity  of 
despair.  Again  he  was  reminded  of  that  gesture  and  wild 
cry  out  in  the  lonely  bush  night,  "  How  long,  oh,  God  ! 
How  long  ! "  which  seemed  to  him  somehow  the  very 
keynote  of  Clare's  inner  life.  This  gesture  appeared  to 
him  one  of  dismissal — of  repudiation  ;  it  awed  him  into 
silence.  He  could  not  go  close  to  her,  or  even  speak  her 
name.  He  had  a  fancy,  just  then,  that  she  was  not  so 
much  a  woman  to  be  loved  and  comforted,  as  a  Fate 
announcing  her  own  doom.  She  went  on,  her  voice  like 
metal  dropping,  never  raised,  but  startling  in  its  intensity." 

"  Now,  go  !     I  don't  want  ever  to  you  again." 

"  Clare  !  "  he  cried.  "  Not  like  this  !  Oh,  my  darling, 
don't  send  me  away  like  this  !  " 

"  Yes,  go! "  she  repeated  imperiously.  "  What  is  the  use 
arguing  and  pleading?  That  will  not  change  me.  What's 
the  use  of  piling  on  agony,  either?  How  else  do  you  want 
me  to  send  you  away  ?  It  won't  make  it  easier  to  tell  you 
that  I  love  you.  Do  you  need  for  me  to  tell  you  that? 
Haven't  I  done  what  proves  it.  Haven't  I  offered  up  my 
child,  and  given  myself  to  be  accursed,  for  love  of  you  ? 
That's  enough.  I've  sworn  that  never,  as  long  as  my  hus- 
band lives,  will  I  touch  your  hand  again  or  willingly  see 
your  face.  I  shall  not  break  this  oath.  So — good-bye  !" 

He  stood  silently  imploring. 

"  Oli,  go,  go  !  "  she  cried  again.  "  Don't  you  hear  me  ? 
You'll  drive  me  mad,  standing  there.  Don't  ever  let  me 
look  at  you  again — that's  all  I  ask  !  Put  a  barrier  between 
us,  that  neither  can  ever  get  over.  Put  the  world  between 
us — that  would  be  best  of  all." 

"I  will  obey  you,"  he  answered.  "Your  will  shall  be 
my  law,  as  I  have  always  told  you.  You  shall  not  be 
troubled  by  me.  Good-bye — my  dear, — my  dear ;  and 


"THE  WORLD  BETWEEN  US."  387 

may  God   help   you    in  your   misery  !     May  he   help   us 
both  ! " 

He  turned  from  her  without  another  word,  but  paused 
and  came  back  for  a  second,  laying  on  a  rock  close  by  her 
something  folded  in  a  white  handkerchief.  The  corners  of 
the  handkerchief  fell  apart  and  showed  a  child's  little 
stained  sock,  a  tiny  discoloured  boot,  and  a  mass  of  dark 
brown  curly  hair. 


CHAPTER  XXXIII. 

HUSBAND    AND    WIFE. 

IT  is  the  privilege  of  novelists  and  dramatists  to  draw 
the  curtain  strings  at  the  climax  of  a  situation,  and  let  the 
drop  scene  fall  when  emotions  threaten  to  overpass  the 
conventional  limit.  Real  life,  however,  does  not  provide 
such  convenient  mechanism,  and  the  human  tragedy  allows 
its  performers  no  intervals  of,  so  to  speak,  annihilation. 
Clare  Tregaskiss  had  to  live  through  days  and  weeks  of 
dull,  hopeless  pain,  the  climax  passed,  the  tragedy  played 
to  the  dying  point,  and  then  nothing  left  but  the  suspension 
of  nerves  aud  faculties  in  an  aching  blank  of  inaction.  She 
was  fortunate  in  this,  that  though  the  suffering  was  acute, 
all  through  the  inaction,  memory  seemed,  when  it  was  over, 
to  wipe  and  sponge  out  parts  that  had  been  most  terrible. 
Looking  back  afterward,  she  never  knew  how  she  had  got 
through  the  journey  from  the  gorge  to  Darra-Darra,  and  . 
thence,  in  Geneste's  buggy,  driven  by  Ambrose  Blanchard, 
to  her  own  home.  She  had  refused  to  stay  at  Darra,  and 
Geneste,  in  obedience  to  her  command,  had  not  accompanied 
her  on  that  melancholy  return  ride.  He  had  put  himself 
to  a  more  refined  martyrdom,  indeed,  by  devoting  himself 
to  the  service  of  Tregaskiss,  who  for  days  could  7iot  be 
induced  to  leave  Ning's  grave.  It  was  the  bereaved  father 
who  erected  the  sapling  fence  round  the  tiny  mound,  and 
with  his  own  hands  hewed  the  wooden  cross  that  marked 
where  the  child's  head  lay. 

Geneste  knew  that  probably  Clare  would  be  very  ill  now 
that  the  strain  she  had  been  undergoing  was  relaxed,  and 
arranged  with  Mrs.  Hilditch,  and  with  Blanchard,  who  had 


HUSBAND  AND   WIFE.  389 

learned  something  of  doctoring  in  his  ministrations  among 
the  poor,  and  his  out-station  and  diggings  life,  what  to  do 
in  the  event  of  the  crisis  he  dreaded,  settling  that  they 
were  to  send  for  him  in  case  of  serious  emergency.  But 
Gladys  Hilditch  was  aware  of  what  had  passed  in  his  last 
interview  with  Clare,  and  determined  within  herself  that 
rather  than  expose  her  friend  to  the  danger  of  being  nursed 
by  Geneste,  she  would  call  in  the  doctor  from  Port  Vic- 
toria. For  this,  however,  there  was  no  need.  Clare  reached 
Mount  Wombo  in  a  state  of  exhaustion,  which  was  perhaps 
a  merciful  palHative  of  her  mental  pain.  She  lay  for  days, 
helpless  as  a  baby,  the  slightest  exertion  bringing  on  a 
fainting  fit  and  period  of  unconsciousness,  from  which  she 
emerged  in  a  half  stupefied  condition,  in  which  she  noticed 
nothing,  but  apparently  in  no  actual  danger. 

Geneste  had  warned  Gladys  against  the  probability  of 
these  attacks,  and  had  given  her  instructions,  and  provided 
her  with  restoratives,  while  a  black  boy  in  his  employ  kept 
up  constant  communication  between  the  two  stations,  so 
that  he  was  always  informed  of  Mrs.  Tregaskiss'  state. 

They  had  been  back  a  week  before  Tregaskiss  returned. 
He  did  not  say  where  he  had  been  or  what  he  had  been 
doing.  Certainly  some  great  moral  change  had  taken 
place  in  him — a  change  which  showed  itself  also  in  his 
physical  aspect.  His  face  had  sharpened,  and  so  looked 
more  refined,  his  eyes  were  clearer,  and  his  manner  had 
lost  the  boisterous  brag  which  had  made  it  objectionable. 
He  was  irritable,  intensely  irritable,  but  this  was  a  differ- 
ent sort  of  irritability.  Outside,  he  found  fault  with  the 
men,  swore  at  the  black  boys  even  more  than  of  old,  and 
denounced  the  drought  and  the  travelling  mobs  with  all  his 
former  virulence  ;  but  in  the  house,  he  was  curiously  sub- 
dued, would  fall  into  long  fits  of  moody  silence,  even  at 
meals,  when  he  would  forget  to  eat,  and  Gladys  would 
sometimes  see  his  eyes  fixed  upon  the  chair  which  had  been 
Ning's,  and  which  was  now  hidden  away  in  an  obscure 


390  MRS.    TREGASKISS. 

corner  of  the  room;  or  he  would  sit  smoking  in  the  veranda 
for  hours,  never  speaking,  with  head  bent,  and  hands  hang- 
ing listlessly,  his  whole  attitude  expressive  of  such  deep 
dejection,  that  Gladys,  much  as  she  had  disliked  her  host, 
felt  her  heart  go  out  to  him  in  pity.  Sometimes  the  fits  of 
silent  smoking  would  alternate  with  fierce  trampings  up 
and  down,  the  noise  of  which  was  the  only  thing  that 
roused  Clare  from  her  condition  of  semi-stupor  to  some 
sign  of  sensibility.  Indeed,  the  fall  of  his  footsteps  got 
upon  her  nerves  so  distressing!}',  that  at  last  Gladys  spoke 
to  Tregaskiss,  and  begged  him  to  desist. 

He  did  not  often  go  into  his  wife's  room,  though  he 
asked  continually  about  her,  and  he  sent  a  pack-horse  to 
Ilgandah  for  port  wine  and  other  invalid  delicacies  of 
which  the  store  was  deficient.  That  penuriousness  in 
trifles  which  had  been  an  unpleasant  trait  in  his  character 
was  not  now  so  noticeable,  and  the  grudging  of  his  wife's 
porter  seemed  oddly  coincident  with  over-indulgence  on 
his  own  part  in  "nips."  Brandy  is  responsible  for  many  a 
quirk  and  extravagance,  and  Philip  drunk  and  Philip  sober 
are  always  different  individuals.  Tregaskiss  appeared  to 
have  manfully  mastered  his  failing  :  it  was  evident  that  he 
had  been  thoroughly  sincere  when  he  declared  to  Gladys 
that  he  was  a  changed  man.  The  sacrifice  of  Ning  had 
not  been  without  its  fruit  on  the  outward  showing  of 
things,  which  would  seem  to  justify  the  propitiatory  theory, 
and  to  prove  that  martyrdom,  even  when  it  might  be  con- 
sidered useless,  is  the  adjusting  force  in  the  great  universal 
scale,  balancing  good  and  evil.  From  the  time  that  he  had 
dashed  away  the  pannikin  of  brandy  and  water,  Tregas- 
kiss had  never,  to  Gladys'  knowledge,  touched  spirits.  She 
saw  that  he  missed  it  horribty,  and  was  woman  of  the 
world  enough  to  make  allowance  on  this  score,  as  well  as 

O  * 

on  that  of  private  grief,  for  his  moody,  ill-tempered  ways. 
She  wondered  within  herself  whether  he  had  made  another 
renunciation  likewise,  and  fancied  that  he  must  have  done 


HUSBAND  AND  WIFE.  391 

so,  for  he  never  alluded  to  Miss  Lawford,  as  he  had  before, 
in  a  sort  of  bravado,  been  in  the  habit  of  doing,  and  never 
spoke  of  visiting  Brinda  Plains.  She  half  suspected  that 
there  had  been  a  scene  of  final  parting,  and  of  heroic 
resolve  on  his  side  in  the  interim  between  Ning's  death  and 
his  return  to  Mount  Wombo.  She  found  something  tragi- 
cally comic  in  the  notion  of  poor  Tregaskiss  playing  the 
chivalrous  part.  Truly,  the  fact  was  pathetic,  if  its  work- 
ings were  grotesque,  that  Tregaskiss  and  his  wife,  at  total 
variance  in  nature  and  sympathies,  should  have  been  acted 
upon  by  the  same  cause  to  arrive  at  the  same  moral  result. 

After  Gladys'  remonstrance,  Tregaskiss  tried  to  work  off 
some  of  his  miseiy  on  the  run.  He  began  the  muster  which 
had  been  delayed  in  the  first  instance  because  the  strike 
had  called  out  the  bush-workers,  drovers  included,  and  it 
was  not  safe  to  start  fat  cattle,  and  later  in  the  hope  of  the 
drought  breaking  up.  But  day  by  day  the  sun  rose  and 
set  in  pitiless,  brassy  glare.  The  great  plains  grew  browner 
and  browner,  and  the  water-holes  were  patches  of  mud. 
Even  the  wiry  gidia  trees  seemed  to  droop  and  shrink  for 
want  of  moisture.  They  were  cutting  young  trees  to  feed 
the  cows,  and  drawing  water  in  buckets  to  give  the  beasts 
drink.  More  than  one  traveller  was  found  in  the  bush, 
dead  of  thirst  ;  cattle  and  sheep  perished  in  hundreds  and 
thousands,  and  ruin  was  staring  the  poorer  Leura  squatters 
in  the  face. 

It  was  a  bad  time  for  Tregaskiss,  hampered  as  he  was 
with  debt.  The  bank  had  refused  to  carry  him  on  longer, 
he  must  make  a  large  sale  or  give  up.  The  bank  inspector 
had  come  and  gone,  while  Clare  was  at  her  worst.  Moved 
to  pity,  perhaps,  by  the  desolation  of  the  house,  he  had  sent 
a  hurried  report  and  departed.  Now  they  were  waiting  to 
know  whether  or  not  the  station  was  to  be  wound  up. 

A  torturing  time  it  was,  too,  for  a  sick  woman.  The 
West  in  a  rainy  season  is  bad  enough,  the  West  in  a  drought 
is  the  Inferno.  It  was  terrible  to  lie  there  under  that 


392  MRS.   TREGASKISS. 

heated  zinc  roof,  the  blinding  glare  penetrating  every 
crevice,  and  all  the  contrivances  for  darkening  the  room 
only  excluding  the  gasped-for  air.  Everything  the  hand 
touched  seemed  to  burn,  metal  scorched,  the  furniture  and 
even  the  buggy  wheels  cracked  and  blistered,  the  white 
ants  swarmed  ;  mosquitoes  and  flies  were  in  myriads  ;  and 
insects  and  reptiles  came  forth — the  poisonous  red  spider, 
and  centipedes,  and  scorpions,  a  daily  horror.  Gladys 
sometimes  marvelled  that  she  herself  lived  through  that 
time,  but  love  is  an  immense  sustainei',  and  Blanchard  was 
now  continually  at  Mount  "VVornbo.  Over  all  was  the  fur- 
nace-like heat  and  brooding  stillness,  only  broken  by  dust 
storms  following  a  gathering  of  futile  clouds — an  irony  in 
that  parched  land.  Gladys  prayed  with  the  fervour  of  a 
devotee  for  rain.  And  at  last  a  thunder  storm  came.  The 
running  creek  put  them  into  comparatively  good  spirits. 
The  musterers  started  out,  and  at  sundown  the  cracking  of 
whips  and  bellowing  of  cattle  announced  their  return.  But 
the  muster  was  a  failure  :  the  branding  fell  short  of  what 
had  been  expected — the  cattle  were  too  weak  to  travel,  and 
Tregaskiss  sank  again  into  irritable  gloom.  He  had  hardly 
been  near  his  wife,  and  she  had  never  asked  for  him. 
Both  had  the  sense  of  an  impending  explanation,  and  both 
dreaded  its  coming.  Now,  one  afternoon  when  he  had  got 
home  earlier  than  usual  from  the  run,  he  appeared  on  the 
upper  veranda  at  the  French  window  leading  into  her  bed- 
room. She  was  up,  sitting  in  a  squatter's  chair  between  the 
draught  of  two  windows,  dressed  in  a  white  dressing-gown, 
with  deep  black  ribbons.  The  baby  was  playing  on  the 
floor  at  her  feet,  while  Claribel  waited  outside  in  the 
veranda,  crooning  an  aboriginal  song.  The  sound  exas- 
perated Tregaskiss — it  was  the  wild  duck  ugal  that  King 
had  been  used  to  sing  : 

"  Ya  naia  naringa. 
Puanbu  ni  go 
Mirrgo  ahiknrai 

Whoogh  ! " 


HUSBAND  AND   WIFE.  393 

"  Stop  that  infernal  howling!  "  he  cried  out.  "  How  dare 
you  sing  that  ?  Be  off  and  take  the  child."  He  picked  up 
.the  baby  and  handed  it  to  the  half-caste  ;  the  little  thing 
cried,  and  Clare  moved  uneasily.  Tregaskiss  turned  to 
her  with  a  sort  of  apology.  His  manner  to  his  wife  now 
was  curious — it  was  sullen,  but  always  deprecating  and  half 
ashamed.  "  I'm  sorry  for  the  row,"  he  said.  "  Those 
blacks'  tunes  drive  me  mad.  Do  you  feel  better,  Clare  ?" 

"I'm  going  to  get  up  and  go  downstairs  to  the  dining- 
room  to-morrow,"  she  answered.  "I  am  much  better, 
thank  you.  I'm  afraid  you  have  been  very  uncomfortable, 
Keith  ?  " 

"  Oh,  I  don't  know  !  Gladys  Hilditch  looks  after  things. 
She's  a  bit  of  a  brick.  By  Jove  !  Blanchard's  a  lucky 
fellow.  That  engagement  is  a  bad  thing  for  us,  though, 
she  might  have  given  us  a  helping  hand." 

Clare  winced. 

"  Oh,  I  don't  think  so,"  she  said  vaguely. 

"  Where's  old  Cyrus  Chance  now  ?  "  asked  Tregaskiss, 
with  abruptness. 

"  I  don't  know  if  he  has  come  back,"  she  answered. 
"Jemmy  Rodd  told  Gladys  he  was  down  South." 

"  There's  been  a  boom  over  one  of  his  mines,  and  I  see 
that  shipment  of  meat  he  made  has  all  gone  off  well.  He 
must  be  coining  money — adding  millions  to  millions,  and 
what  good  is  it  to  himself  or  anybody  ?  I've  been  think- 
ing," added  Tregaskiss  slowly,  "  that  if  his  liking  for  you 
is  worth  anything,  and  for "  He  paused,  his  face  work- 
ing. Clare  knew  what  had  passed  through  his  mind,  and 
made  a  quick  gesture  of  expostulation.  Cyrus  Chance  had 
ahvays  been  fond  of  Ning.  But  to  think  of  that  fondness 
now  as  a  marketable  commodity  choked  her.  "You  don't 
suppose  I  meant  that?"  Tregaskiss  cried,  interpreting  the 
gesture  with  a  quicker  intuition  than  she  had  given  him 
credit  for.  He  flung  himself  down  upon  a  chair  and  leaned 
forward  for  a  minute  or  two,  his  elbows  on  his  knees  and 


394  MRS.   TREGASKISS. 

his  face  buried  in  his  hands.  Presently  lie  looked  up. 
"  It  wouldn't  go  so  much  against  the  grain  with  me  to  ask 
the  old  miser  anything  now,  that's  all — because  of — the. 
Pickaninny.  I  know  he  had -an  eye  on  this  station  when  I 
first  took  it  up,  and  has  been  watching  the  market,  and 
Cusack  told  me  he'd  said  he  would  buy  it  at  his  own  price. 
Well,  I've  been  wondering  if  I  could  work  a  sale  and  fix 
up  the  bank.  The  worst  of  it  is  that  Chance  is  such  an 
infernal  screw  that  he'd  just  wait  till  the  bank  was  down 
upon  me  and  then  take  it  off  their  hands  cheap." 

"  I  don't  know,"  said  Clare  dully.  "  Do  you  want  to  sell 
the  station,  Keith  ?  " 

He  gave  a  rough  laugh. 

"Wouldn't  every  man-jack  of  us  on  the  Leura  want  to 
sell  if  we  could  find  a  market?  A  drought  isn't  exactly 
selling  time.  But  that's  Cyrus'  way  of  making  money — 
buying  in  hard  times  and  selling  in  good  ones.  He  can 
afford  it.  I'm  in  a  tight  place,  as  you  know  well  enough, 
Clare,  and  if  I  can't  do  something  the  place  will  be  sold 
over  our  heads,  and  we  shall  walk  out  with  nothing.  I've 
had  notice  from  the  bank — I  didn't  bother  you,  but  I  sup- 
pose you  know  that  they  sent  a  fellow  inspecting  ?  Now, 
I  thought  you  might  help  me  with  old  Cyrus — write  a 
letter,  ask  him  over  here,  or  something  that  would  give  me 
a  chance  of  breaking  the  ground.  There's  no  use  in  my 
going  over  to  him.  He's  such  a  queer  fellow,  he'd  as  likely 
as  not,  if  he  guessed  my  errand,  send  me  to  the  huts." 

"I'll  think  about  it,  Keith.  I  couldn't  ask  him  to  lend 
money — but  this  isn't  the  same  thing." 

"  Very  well.  Jemmy  Rodd  will  be  passing  by  to-mor- 
row." Tregaskiss  got  up  as  if  he  were  going  to  leave  her, 
but  fidgetted  about  the  room  for  a  minute,  then  came  back 
and  again  seated  himself.  "Clare,  I've  got  something  to 
say  to  you.  Do  you  think  you  are  strong  enough  to  bear 
it?" 

"  Yes,"  she  said  faintly. 


HUSBAND   AND  WIFE.  395 

"  Look  here  !  We  can't  go  on  like  this — strangers  in 
one  house.  We're  husband  and  wife  still,  when  all's  said 
and  done,  and  we've  got  to  rough  it  along,  the  two  of  us, 
somehow,  even  if  you  do  hate  me." 

"  I  don't  hate  you,  Keith.  I  am  very  sorry  for  having 
said  those  words,  they  were  provoked." 

"  Yes,  I  know  they  were,"  lie  answered  ;  "  and  I've  re- 
pented my  part  toward  provoking  them — and  humbly  beg 
your  pardon  for  it.  I  had  been  taking  more  than  was  good 
for  me,  Clare,  that's  the  truth  ;  and  I  was  just  mad  that 
night  with  one  thing  and  another.  That's  all  past  now. 
I  didn't  mean  what  I  said,  and  I'm  glad  you  didn't  mean 
your  words  either." 

"  I  had  no  right  to  say  them,  Keith.  I  was  sorry  for 
you,  even  then.  I  am  very  sorry  for  you  now — sorry  that 
you  should  be  tied  to  a  woman  like  me,  when  you  might 
be  so  much  happier  with  someone  better  suited  to  you. 
That's  how  I  look  at  it." 

"  Well,  we've  got  to  rough  it  along  together,  somehow," 
he  repeated.  "  And  there's  this  to  think  of," — Tregas- 
kiss'  voice  got  husky  again  :  "  The  poor  little  Pickaninny 
belonged  to  both  of  us  ;  and  she  was  fond  of  her  daddy. 
You  might  forgive  me,  Clare — for  her  sake." 

"  Oh,  I  forgive  you — I  forgive  you  utterly,  if  there's 
anything  to  forgive.  But  you  don't  know — it's  I  who 
ought  to  be  forgiven." 

"  Yes,  I  suppose  I  know — partly.  Things  seem  to  have 
got  clearer  in  my  mind — they  were  all  muddled  before — 
since  Pickaninny  came  to  me  that  night.  I  asked  Mrs. 
Ililditch  to  tell  you.  Did  she  ?  " 

"  Yes  ;  she  told  me." 

"  I  said  I  was  a  changed  man,  and  it's  true.  You  may 
have  seen  it— or  perhaps  Gladys  Hilditch  has  told  you  that, 
too.  I've  not  touched  a  drop  of  grog  since  that  night  ; 
and  I've  made  a  solemn  oath  by  the  child's  grave  that  I'll 
never  touch  it  again.  That  was  the  root  of  it  all.  And  it 
26 


396  MRS.   TREGASKISS. 

turned  you  against  me,  and  then  I  got  mad,  feeling  I  was  a 
brute  to  you  ;  and  that  you  despised  me.  It  wasn't  that  I 
didn't  care  for  you,  Clare.  I've  always  been  fond  of  you  ; 
and  I've  always  respected  you — you've  always  been  such  a 
lady." 

Clare  made  an  inarticulate  murmur.  The  great  blunder- 
ing fellow  went  on  : 

"You  are  a  different  sort  from  women  like  that  poor 
little  Hetty  Law  ford.  There  was  never  anything  really 
wrong  there, — you  must  believe  that, — though  I  was  taken 
with  her,  and  I'm  fond  of  her  still  ;  and  I  made  a  fool  of 
myself.  But  it's  all  done  with.  She  cared  for  me  a  bit, 
poor  little  thing  !  I  don't  want  to  say  a  word  of  her  that 
isn't  good — she  doesn't  deserve  it.  I've  seen  her  and  told 
her  that  it's  all  over  and  done  with,  and  I  expect  she'll  end 
by  marrying  the  old  land  commissioner.  I've  advised  her 
to,  and  to  get  away  from  the  Cusacks.  We've  all  been  on 
the  wrong  track,  and  it's  time  we  took  new  bearings." 

"  Will  you  take  me  away  ?"  she  asked  wildly.  "  If  you 
can  only  sell  the  station,  will  you  take  me  right  away?" 

"  That's  what  I  want.  I'll  take  you  to  a  cooler  climate, 
and  where  you  won't  have  such  a  rough  life — even  if  we 
can  but  just  scrape  enough  out  of  Mount  Wombo  to  take  a 
cottage  South  ;  on  the  Ubi,  perhaps  you'd  like  that.  And 
we'll  begin  fresh.  Will  you  agree  to  that,  Clare,  for  the 
sake  of  the  poor  little  dead  Pickaninny?" 

Then  almost  for  the  first  time  since  King  died,  the 
woman's  stony  reserve  gave  way.  She  cried  as  if  her  heart 
were  breaking,  trying  to  get  out  words  of  self-reproach 
and  of  entreaty  for  forgiveness,  trying  to  make  him  under- 
stand the  agony  of  humiliation  his  trust  in  her  caused  her, 
half  repulsing  his  efforts  to  soothe  her,  yet  humbly  grate- 
ful for  the  dog-like,  tentative  caresses  which  were  all  he 
dared  give  her.  By  and  by  she  sobbed  out  :  "Oh,  Keith  ! 
if  you  knew,  you  wouldn't  be  like  that !  If  you  knew  how 
bad  I  have  been." 


HUSBAND  AND  WIFE.  397 

"I  don't  want  to  know,"  he  answered  stolidly.     "I  dare 
say  you   were  led  away — as  I  was  myself.     Of  course  I 
know  Geneste  was  in  love  with   you  ;   but   I   know  that 
nothing  would  have  ever  made  you  forget  your  dignity, 
Clare,  and  your  duty  as  a  wife  and  a  mother." 

"  No  ! "  she  cried,  pierced  to  the  soul ;  "  I  can't  let  you 
think  that  of  me,  when  it  isn't  true — when  I  am  a  wicked 
woman,  whom  God  has  punished  for  her  sin.  I  had  prom- 
ised to  go  away,"  she  said,  in  a  very  low  voice.  "  I  was 
determined  to  throw  up  everything.  I  meant  to  leave  you 
forever — you  and  the  children." 

She  sat  like  a  criminal,  with  her  head  bent.  She  could 
not  meet  her  husband's  eyes,  which  she  felt  were  fixed  upon 
her.  Yet  there  was  a  sense  as  of  a  load  lifted  when  she 
had  made  her  confession.  She  heard  him  utter  a  choking 
sound,  as  though  he  were  trying  to  speak,  but  could  not 
get  out  the  words.  There  was  a  long  silence.  At  last  he 
said  hoarsely  :  "You  can  go  if  you  like,  Clare.  I  have  no 
right  to  keep  you  or  to  expect  you  to  live  with  me.  I've 
cared  for  you  tremendously  ;  and  I  do  care  for  you  still, 
though  you  may  not  believe  it.  I  came  in  here,  honestly 
meaning  to  beg  your  forgiveness,  and  to  ask  you  to  let  us 
begin  a  new  life.  Bat  if  it's  like  that,  and  you'd  rather  go, 
I'll  not  say  anything  ;  and  I'll  get  a  divorce,  and  you  can 
marry  him.  You  can  take  the  baby  if  you  like.  I  don't 
care  for  her.  I  don't  care  for  anything,  now  that  Ning's 
gone.  I  don't  care  what  becomes  of  me.  I'd  as  soon  as 
not  go  and  cut  my  throat  and  be  done  with  it." 

She  looked  up  at  him  in  wonder,  and  a  kind  of  awe. 
He  was  gazing  straight  out  of  the  window,  with  an  ex- 
pression upon  his  face  she  had  not  believed  it  possible 
he  could  wear.  She  saw  that  he  had  not  spoken  in 
anger  or  resentment — that  he  meant  what  he  said  ;  and 
she  began  to  wonder  dimly,  whether  in  truth  there  were 
depths  in  pool*  Tregaskiss'  nature  which  she  had  never 
sounded. 


398  MRS.    TREGASKISS. 

"  Well,"  he  said  at  length,  still  not  looking  at  her  ;  "do 
you  want  to  go?" 

"  No,  Keith,"  she  answered,  in  a  clear,  decided  voice. 
"  I  am  going  to  stay  with  j'ou,  and  do  my  best  to  make  up 
for  what's  gone  by,  if  you'll  let  me." 

After  this  scene  with  Tregaskiss,  Clare  began  to  get 
better  and  asked  to  get  up.  Presently  she  took  up  again 
the  ordinary  duties  of  her  life,  in  a  strange,  silent,  apathetic 
way,  never  alluding  to  her  loss,  and  avoiding  mention  of 
Geneste.  It  made  Gladys'  heart  ache  to  see  how  watchful 
she  was  of  her  baby,  hardly  allowing  it  with  Claribel  out 
of  her  sight,  and  how  she  attended  to  every  little  detail 
of  housekeeping,  getting  up  early  to  do  her  dairy  work, 
making  and  mending,  and  giving  out  rations,  as  she  had 
been  used  to  do.  Except  that  she  never  laughed,  and  that 
the  smiling  curve  of  her  lips  was  set  into  an  expression  of 
exquisite  agony,  she  did  not  seem  very  different  from  the 
still,  reserved,  sweet  woman  of  a  few  months  before. 

"  There's  just  this  difference,"  said,  in  answer  to  the 
remark  by  Gladys,  Helen  Cusack,  who  had  ridden  over  one 
day  with  Ambrose  Blanch ard  ;  "  she  was  alive  before,  and 
now  the  best  part  of  her  is  dead." 

Helen's  eyes  followed  Mrs.  Tregaskiss  in  wistful  ques- 
tioning, and  with  a  certain  awed  wonder.  Had  the  strong- 
est thing  in  her  really  died  with  Ning  ?  Did  she  still  love 
Geneste  ? 

They  were  sitting  in  the  upper  veranda,  the  evening 
before  Helen  went  home  again,  when  Clare,  turning  to  her 
suddenly,  said,  for  the  first  time  mentioning  Geneste's 
name  : 

"  Do  you  ever  see  Dr.  Geneste  ?  " 

Helen  went  red,  though  in  the  dimness  of  the  veranda  it 
was  not  noticeable,  and  hesitated  as  she  answered  :  "  Yes  ; 
he  comes  over  sometimes." 

"  Why  has  he  not  gone  to  England  ?" 

Helen  faltered  more.     "  I — don't  know." 


HUSBAND  AND  WIFE.  399 

"  Will  you  tell  him,"  continued  Clare  quite  calmly,  "  that 
I  think  he  ought  to  go  soon,  unless  he  lias  made  up  his 
mind  to  many  and  settle  down  on  the  Leura.  He  ought 
to  marry,  tell  him,  and  have  children  and  a  real  iiome.  It 
is  a  great  pity  that  he  should  waste  his  life  as  a  bachelor, 
when  he  might  make  some  good,  sweet  girl  veiy  happy,  and 
be  very  happy  himself.  He  ought  to  go  home  and  take 
up  his  profession  again.  Please  give  him  that  message 
from  me." 

"Mrs.  Tregaskiss,"  said  Helen,  "will  you  not  see  him 
and  tell  him  that  yourself  ?  " 

"  No,  my  dear,"  she  answered  quietly,  "  I  do  not  wish 
ever  to  see  Dr.  Geneste  again — at  any  rate,  not  for  a  great 
many  years.  Tell  him  that,  too,  if  you  please  ;  he  will 
understand." 

It  was  not  very  long  after  this  that  Jemmy  Rodd  brought 
Mrs.  Tregaskiss  two  letters.  The  first  she  opened  was 
from  Geneste.  It  had  no  formal  beginning  or  ending,  and 
this  was  what  he  said. 

"  I  am  obeying  you.  You  told  me  that  you  never 
wished  to  see  my  face  again  ;  you  bade  me  place  a  barrier 
between  us  which  neither  could  ever  pass  over.  I  have 
done  so.  I  am  going  to  marry  Helen  Cusack,  and  we  shall 
shortly  leave  for  England  together.  I  am  not  worthy  of  her, 
but  she  knows  everything  and  accepts  me  as  I  am — a  man, 
no  nobler,  no  truer,  than  many  another  man.  She  loves 
me  far  more  than  I  deserve,  and  to  me,  she  is  so  dear  that 
it  will  be  my  best  happiness  to  try  and  make  her  happy. 
Good-bye." 

The  second  letter  was  from  Cyrus  Chance,  and  ran  thus  : 

"  MY  DEAR  MISTRESS  TREGASKISS  : 

"  I  have  just  come  from  one  of  my  sugar  plantations, 
after  being  down  on  the  Ubi,  to  learn,  to  my  great  aston- 


400  MRS.   TREGASKISS. 

isliment  and  grief,  of  the  sad  misfortune  that  has  befallen 
you.  I  will  say  no  words,  for  I  was  fond  of  the  wee  thing  ; 
and  deeds  will  speak  plainer,  as  you  will  learn.  I  got  your 
letter  about  the  station  ;  and  on  that  matter  I  will  treat 
with  your  husband,  for  ladies  are  best  left  out  of  business. 
I  like  the  place,  and  I'm  disposed  to  go  a  small  bit  above 
the  market  value,  which  is  next  to  nothing  just  no\v.  But 
only  a  small  bit,  mind  you,  so  don't  let  him  think  he  can 
pile  it  on.  A  gift's  a  gift,  and  a  deal's  a  deal.  I  have  no 
opinion  of  him  as  a  manager,  or  I  would  offer  him  the 
billet.  If  he'll  take  advice  from  me,  he'll  go  South,  and 
start  as  a  stock  and  station  agent,  where  his  habit  of 
blowing  will  come  in  useful.  I  hear  he  has  given  up  nip- 
ping, and  I'm  glad  of  it,  and  hope  he'll  continue  temperate. 
I  have  seen  young  Blanchard,  and  have  heard  a  great  deal 
from  him  about  his  own  and  other  people's  matters.  The 
man  is  straight ;  and  since  Fair  Ines  had  to  make  a  fool  of 
herself,  and  come  down  to  be  just  like  the  rest  of  you,  she 
might  have  done  it  worse  ;  but  she  had  better  have  stopped 
in  Dreamland,  which  is  where  I  shall  always  think  of  her. 

"  About  yourself  :  I  have  watched  you  for  a  long  time, 
and  old  man  Chance  saw  deeper  down  below  things  than 
you  have  any  idea.  Pie  saw  into  your  heart,  for  all  that  he 
is  a  woman-hater,  and  never  had  a  woman  in  the  world 
that  loved  him,  nor  loved  one  himself,  unless  it's  you,  dear 
mistress,  and  my  dream  woman,  Fair  Ines.  So  I  know  that 
you  have  had  a  trouble  eating  your  heart  all  the  while  ; 
and  I  am  sorry  for  you,  and  glad  to  know  now  that  it  has 
ended  in  the  only  right  way  it  could  end.  You  remember 
what  I  said  to  you  a  while  ago  :  'Nurse  j-our  babies,  and 
turn  them  into  blessings'  ?  You've  got  j^our  little  one  left, 
and  though  it  will  never  be  like  the  one  God  has  taken, — for 
she  was  a  rare  and  gracious  creature, — she'll  be  something 
for  you  to  love  and  cherish  when  all  else  has  failed. 

"  And  now  I  come  to  the  deed  I  spoke  of,  which  is  just 
this  :  When  I  went  home  after  that  day  that  I  saw  you  in 


HUSBAND  AND  WIFE.  401 

your  pretty  drawing  room,  furnished  so  cheaply  and  so  com- 
fortably, with  the  two  babies  by  you,  and  Ning  so  sweet  and 
pretty,  I  made  a  codicil  to  my  will  by  which  I  left  your 
Ning,  that's  gone,  twenty  thousand  pounds,  to  be  held  by 
you  in  trust  for  her,  if  I  died  before  she  was  of  age,  and  to 
come  to  ^you,  and  afterward  to  the  baby,  if  she  died  first. 
This  day  I  have  put  that  amount  in  the  hands  of  trustees 
as  a  settlement  upon  yourself.  The  lawyers  will  put  it  all 
into  proper  words,  and  do  the  rest,  and  I  wish  you  to  con- 
sider it,  not  as  a  gift  from  me,  but  as  your  rightful  inherit- 
ance from  your  dead  child.  You  will  find,  placed  quarterly 
to  your  credit  at  the  Bank  of  Leichardt'sLand,  due  interest 
for  the  same. 

"  God  bless  you,  Mistress  Tregaskiss,  is  the  prayer  of 
your  friend  and  well-wisher, 

"  CYRDB  CHANCE. 

"  P.  S. — I  suppose  you  know  that  Geneste  is  going  to 
marry  Helen  Cusack,  and  young  Gillespie  has  gone  home 
South,  looking  awful  down  in  the  mouth." 


THI  ENU. 


APPLETONS'  TOWN  AND  COUNTRY  LIBRARY. 

PUBLISHED  SEMIMONTHLY. 


1.  The  Steel  Hammer.    By  Louis  ULBACH. 

2.  Eve.    A  Novel.    By  S.  BARING-GOULD. 

3.  For  Fifteen  Years.    A  Sequel  to  The  Steel  Hammer.    By  Louis  ULBACH. 

4.  A  Counsel  of  Perfection.    A  Novel.    By  LUCAS  MALET. 

5.  The  Deemster.    A  Romance.    By  HALL  CAINK. 

6.  A  Virginia  Inheritance.    By  EDMUND  PENDLETON. 

7.  Ninette :  An  Idyll  of  Provence.    By  the  author  of  V6ra. 

8.  "  The  Right  Honourable."   By  JUSTIN  MCCARTHY  and  Mrs.  CAMPBELL-PHAED. 

9.  The  Silence  of  Dean  Mai/land.    By  MAXWELL  GRAY. 

10.  Mrt.  Lorimer :  A  Study  in  Black  and  White.    By  LUCAS  MALET. 

11.  The  Elect  Lady.    By  GEORGE  MACDONALD. 

12.  The  Mystery  of  the  '"•Ocean  Star."    By  W.  CLARK  RUSSELL. 

13.  Aristocracy.    A  Novel. 

14.  A  Recoiling  Vengeance.    By  FRANK  BARRETT.    With  Illustrations. 

15.  The  Secret  of  Fontaine-la-  Croix.    By  MARGARET  FIELD. 

16.  The  Master  of  Rathkflly.    By  HAWLEY  SMART. 

17.  Donovan:  A  Modern  Englishman.    By  EDNA  LY ALL. 

18.  This  Mortal  Coil.    By  GRANT  ALLEN. 

19.  A  Fair  Emigrant.    By  ROSA  MULUOLLAND. 

20.  The  Apostate.    By  ERNEST  DAUDET. 

21.  Raleigh  Westgale ;  or,  Epimenides  in  Maine.    By  HELEN  KENDRICK  JOHNSON. 

22.  Anus  the  Libyan :  A  Romance  of  the  Primitive  Church. 

23.  Constance,  and  Galoot's  Rival.    By  JULIAN  HAWTHORNE. 

24.  We  Two.    By  EDNA  LYALL. 

25.  A  Dreamer  of  Dreams.    By  the  author  of  Thoth. 

26.  The  Ladies'  Gallery.    By  JUSTIN  MCCARTHY  and  Mrs.  CAMPBELL- PRAED. 

27.  The  Reproach  of  Annesley.    By  MAXWKLL  GRAY. 

28.  Near  to  Happiness. 

29.  In  the  Wire-  Grass.    By  Louis  PENDLETON. 

30.  Lace.    A  Berlin  Romance.    By  PAUL  LINDAU. 

31.  American  Coin.    A  Novel.    B~y  the  author  of  Aristocracy. 

32.  Won  by  Waiting.    By  EDNA  LYALL. 

33.  The  Story  of  Helen  Davenant.    By  VIOLET  FANE. 

34.  The  Light  of  Her  Countenance.    By  H.  H.  BOYESEN. 

35.  Mistress  Beatrice  Cope.    By  M.  E.  LE  CLERC. 

36.  The.  Knight-Errant.    By  EDNA  LYALL. 

37.  In  the  Golden  Days.    By  EDNA  LYALL. 

38.  Giraldi ;  or,  The  Curse  of  Love.    By  Ross  GEORGE  DERING. 

39.  A  Hardy  Norseman.    By  EDNA  LYALL. 

40.  The  Romance  of  Jenny  Harlowe,  and  Sketches  of  Maritime  Life.     By  W. 

CLARK  RUSSELL. 

41.  Passion's  Slave.    By  RICHARD  ASHE-KING. 

42.  The  Awakening  of  Mary  Fenwick.    By  BEATRICE  WHITBY. 

43.  Countess  Loreley.    Translated  from  the  German  of  RUDOLF  MENGEB. 

44.  Blind  Love.    By  WILKIE  COLLINS. 

45.  The  Dean's  Daughter.    By  SOPHIE  F.  F.  VEITCH. 

46.  Counts')  Irene.    A  Romance  of  Austrian  Life.    By  J.  FOGERTT. 

47.  Robert  Browning's  Principal  Shorter  Poems. 

48.  Frozen  Hearts.    By  G.  WEBB  APPLETON. 

49.  Djambek  the  Georgian.    By  A.  G.  VON  SUTTNER. 

50.  The  Craze  of  Christian  Eagelhart.    By  HENRY  FAULKNER  DARNELL 

51.  Lai.    By  WILLIAM  A.  HAMMOND,  M.  D. 

52.  Aline     A  Novel.    By  HENRY  GBEVILLE. 

53.  Joost  Avelingh.    A  Dutch  Story.    By  MAARTEN  MAARTENS. 
>1.  Katy  of  Catoctin.    By  GEORGE  ALFRED  TOWNSEND. 

55.  Throcknwrron.    A  Novel.    By  MOLLY  ELLIOT  SEA. WELL. 
56   Expatriation.    By  the  author  of  Aristocracy. 
fi7.  Geoffrey  Hampstead.    By  T.  S.  JARVIS. 


APPLE-TONS'  TOWN  AND  COtJNTRY  LIBRARY.— {Continued) 

58.  Dmitri.    A  Romance  of  Old  Russia.    By  F.  W.  BAIN,  M.  A. 

59.  Part  of  the  Property.    By  BEATRICE  WHITBY. 
00.  Bismarck  in  Private  Life.    By  a  Fellow-Student. 

61.  In  Low  Relief.    By  MORLET  ROBERTS. 

62.  The  Canadians  of  Old.    A  Historical  Romance.    By  PHILIPPE  GASPB. 

63.  A  Squire  of  Low  Degree.    By  LILT  A.  LONG. 

64   A  Fluttered  Dovecote.    By  GEORGE  MANVILLE  FENN. 

65.  The  Nugents  of  Carriconna.    An  Irish  Story.    By  TIGHE  HOPKINS. 

66.  A  Sensitive  Plant.    By  E.  and  D.  GERARD. 

67.  Dona  Luz.    By  JUAN  VALERA.    Translated  by  Mrs.  MART  J.  SERRANO. 

68.  Pepita  Ximenez.   By  JUAN  VALEBA.    Translated  by  Mrs.  MART  J.  SERRANO 

69.  The  Primes  and  their  Neighbors.    By  RICHARD  MALCOLM  JOHNSTON. 

70.  The  Iron  Game.    By  HENRT  F.  KEENAN. 

71.  Stories  of  Old  New  Spain.    By  THOMAS  A.  JANVIER. 

72.  The  Maid  of  Honor.    By  Hon.  LEWIS  WINGFIELD. 

73.  In  the  Heart  of  the  Storm.    By  MAXWELL  GRAY. 

74.  Consequences.    By  EGERTON  CASTLE. 

75.  The  Three  Miss  Kings.    By  ADA  CAMBRIDGE. 

76.  A  Matter  of  Skill.    By  BEATRICE  WHITBT. 

77.  Maid  Manan,  and  other  Stories.    By  MOLLT  ELLIOT  SKAWBLU 

78.  One  Woman's  Way.    By  EDMUND  PENDLETON. 

79.  A  Merciful  Divorce.    By  F.  W.  MAUDE. 

80.  Stephen  EUicolt's  Daughter.    By  Mrs.  J.  H.  NEEDELL. 

81.  One  Reason  Why.    By  BEATRICE  WHITBT. 

82.  The  Tragedy  of  Ida  Noble.    By  W  CLARK  RUSSELL. 

83.  The  Johnstown  Stage,  and  other  Stories.    By  ROBERT  H.  FLETCHER. 

84.  A  Widower  Indeed.    By  RHODA  BROUGHTON  and  ELIZABETH  BISLAND. 

85.  The  flight  of  the  Shadow.    By  GEORGE  MACDONALD. 

86.  Love  or  Money.    By  KATHARINE  LEE. 

87.  Not  All  in  Vain.    By  ADA  CAMBRIDGE. 

88.  It  Happened  Yesterday.    By  FREDERICK  MARSHALL. 

89.  My  Guardian.    By  ADA  CAMBRIDGE. 

90.  The  Story  of  Philip  Methuen.    By  Mrs.  J.  H.  NEEDELL. 

91.  Amethyst:  The  Story  of  a  Beanty.    By  CHRIST  ABEL  R.  COLERIDGE. 

92.  Don  Braulio.    By  JUAN  VALERA.    Translated  by  CLARA  BELL. 

93.  The  Chronicles  of  Mr.  BUI  Williams.    By  RICHARD  MALCOLM  JOHWSTON 

94.  A  Queen  of  Curds  and  Cream.    By  DOROTHEA  GERARD. 

95.  "  La  Bella  "  and  Others.    By  EGERTON  CASTLK. 

96.  "  December  Roses.'''1    By  Mrs.  CAMPBELL-PRAED. 

97.  Jean  de  Kerdren.    By  JEANNB  SCHULTZ. 

98.  Etellca's  Vow.    By  DOROTHEA  GERARD. 

99.  Cross  Currents.    By  MART  A.  DICKENS. 

100.  His  Life's  Magnet.    By  THEODORA  ELMSLIB. 

101.  Passing  the  Love  of  Women.    By  Mrs.  J.  H.  NKEDELL. 

102.  In  Old  St.  Stephen's.    By  JEANIE  DRAKE. 

103.  The  Berkeleys  and  their  Neighbors.    By  MOLLT  ELLIOT  SEAWT;L> 

104.  Mona  Maclean,  Medical  Student.    By  GRAHAM  TRAVERS. 

105.  Mrs.  Bligh.    By  RHODA  BROUGHTON. 

106.  A  Stumble  on  the  Threshold.    By  JAMES  PATH. 

107.  Hanging  Moss.    By  PAUL  LINDAU. 

108.  A  Comedy  of  Elopement.    By  CHRISTIAN  REID. 

109.  In  the  Suntime  of  her  Youth.    By  BEATRICE  WHITBT. 

110.  Stories  in  Black  and  White.    By  THOMAS  HARDT  and  Other*. 
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111.  Commander  Mendoza.    By  JUAN  VALERA. 

112.  Dr.  PauU's  Theory.    By  Mrs.  A.  M.  DIKHL. 

113.  Children  of  Destiny.    By  MOLLT  ELLIOT  SEAWELL. 

114.  A  Little  Minx.    By  ADA  CAMBRIDGE. 

115.  Capi'n  Davy's  Honeymoon.    By  HALL  CAINK. 

116.  The  Voice  of  a  Flower,    By  E.  GERARD. 

117.  Singularly  Deluded.    By  SARAH  GRAND. 

118.  Suspected.    By  LOUISA  STRATENUS. 

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122.  An  Innocent  Impostor,  and  Other  Stories.    By  MAXWELL  OKAY. 

123.  Ideala.    By  SARAII  GRAND. 

124.  A  Comedy  of  MOSKS.    Bv  KRNKST  DOWSON  and  ARTHUR  MOORE. 

125.  Relics.    By  FRANCES  MAC-MAB. 

126.  Dodo:  A  Detail  of  the  Day.    By  E.  F.  BENSON. 

127.  A  Woman  of  Forty.    By  KSME  STUART. 

128.  Diana  Tempest.    By  MARY  CHOLMONDELEY. 

129.  The  Recipe  for  Diamonds.    By  C.  J.  CUTCLIFFE  HYNB. 

130.  Christina  Chard.    By  Mrs.  CAMPBELL-PRAED. 

131.  A  Gray  Eye  or  So.    By  FRANK  FRANKFORT  MOORE. 

132.  Earlscourt.    By  ALEXANDER  ALLARDYCE. 
143.  A  Marriage  Ceremony.     By  ADA  CAMBRIDGE. 

134.  A  Ward  in  Chancery.    By  Mrs.  ALEXANDER 

135.  Lot,  13.    By  DOROTHEA  GERARD. 

136.  Our  Manifold  Nature.    By  SARAH  GRAND. 

137.  A  Costly  Freak.    By  MAXWELL  GRAY. 

138.  A  Beginner.    By  EHODA  BROUGHTON. 

139.  A  Yellow  Aster.    By  Mrs.  MANNINGTON  CAFFYN  ("  IOTA"). 

140.  The  Rubicon.    By  E.  F.  BENSON. 

141.  The  Trespasser.    By  GILBERT  PARKEB. 

142.  The  Rich  Miss  Riddell.    By  DOROTHEA  GEKARD. 

143.  Mary  Fenwick's  Daughter.    By  BEATRICE  WHITBY. 

144.  Red  Diamonds.    By  JUSTIN  MCCARTHY. 

145.  A  Daughter  of  Music.    By  G.  COLMORE. 

146.  Outlaw  and  Lawmaker.     By  Mrs.  CAMPBELL-PRAED. 

147.  Dr.  Janet  of  Harley  Street.    By  ARABELLA  KENEALY. 

148.  George  MandevUle's  Husband.    By  C.  E.  RAIMOND. 

149.  Vashti  and  Esther. 

150.  Timar's  Two  Worlds.    By  M.  JOKAI. 

151.  A  Victim  of  Good  Luck.    By  W.  E.  NORRIS. 

152.  The  Trail  of  the  Sword.    By  GILBERT  PARKER. 

153.  A  MUd  Barbarian.    By  EDGAR  FAWCKTT. 

154.  The  God  in  the  Car.    By  ANTHONY  HOPE. 

155.  Children  of  Circumstance.    By  Mrs.  M.  CAFFYN  ("  IOTA"). 

156.  At  the  Gate  of^  Samaria.     By  WILLIAM  J.  LOCKE. 

157.  The  Justification  of  Andrew  Lebrun.    By  FRANK  BARKETT. 

158.  Dust  and  Laurels.    By  MARY  L.  PENDERED. 

159.  The  Good  Ship  Mohock.    By  W.  CLARK  RUSSELL. 

160.  Noenii.    By  8.  BARING-GOULD. 

161.  The  Honour  of  Savelli.     By  S.  LEVETT  YEATS. 

162.  Kitty's  Engagement.    By  FLORENCE  WARDEN. 

163.  The  Mermaid.    By  L.  DOUGALL. 

104.  An  Arranged  Marriage.    By  DOROTHEA  GERARD. 

165.  Eve's  Ransom.    By  GEORGE'GISSING. 

166.  The  Marriage  of  Esther.    By  GUY  BOOTHBY. 

167.  Fidelis.    By  ADA  CAMBRIDGE. 

168.  Into  the  Highways  and  Hedges.    By  F.  F.  MONTFESOR. 

169.  The  Vengeance  of  James  Van-sittart.    By  Mrs.  J.  H.  NEEDELL. 

170.  A  Study  in  Prejudices.     By  GEORGE  PASTON. 

171.  The  Mistress  of  Quest.    By  ADELINE  SERGEANT. 

172.  In  the  Year  of  Jubilee.    By  GEOBGK  GISSING. 

173.  In  Old  New  England.    By  HEZEKIAH  BUTTERWOR---H. 

174.  Mrs.  Musgrave — and  Her  Husband.    By  RICHARD  MARSH. 

175.  Not  Counting  the  Cost.    By  TASMA. 

176.  Out  of  Due  Season.    By  ADELINE  SERGEANT. 

177.  Scyllaor  Charybdisf    By  RHODA  BROUGHTON. 

178.  /«  Defiance  of  the  King.    By  C.  C.  HOTCHKISS. 

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reading — all  ol  it,"—  Philaielphia  Press. 

"  Hardly  a  sketch  among  them  all  that  will  not  afford  pleasure  to  the  reader  for  its 
genial  humor,  artistic  local  coloring,  and  admirable  portrayal  of  character." — Boston 
Home  Journal. 

"One  dips  into  the  book  anywhere  and  reads  on  and  on,  fascinated  by  the  writei's 
charm  of  manner." — Minneapolis  Tribune. 

"These  stories  are  lively  and  vigorous,  and  have  many  touches  of  human  nature 
in  them  — such  touches  as  we  are  used  to  from  having  read  '  The  Stickit  Minister '  and 
'  The  Lilac  Sunbonnet.'  " — blew  Haven  Register. 

"  '  Boar-Myrtle  and  Peat'  contains  stories  which  could  only  have  been  written  by  a 
man  of  genius." — London  Chronicle. 


T 


HE  LILAC  SUNBONNET.     A  Loi<e  Story. 


"  A  love  story  pure  and  simole,  one  of  the  old-fashioned,  wholesome,  sunshiny 
kind,  with  a  pure-minded,  sound-hearted  hero,  and  a  heroine  who  is  merely  a  good  and 
beautiful  woman;  and  if  any  other  love  story  half  so  sweet  has  been  written  2ns year, 
it  has  escaped  our  notice." — \ew  York  Times. 

"  A  solid  novel  with  an  old  time  flavor,  as  refreshing  when  compared  to  the  average 
modern  story  as  is  a  whiff  of  air  from  the  hills  to  one  just  come  from  a  hothouse." — 
Boston  Beacon. 

"The  general  conception  of  the  story,  the  motive  of  which  is  the  growth  of  love  be. 
tween  the  young  chief  and  he.oine,  is  delineated  with  a  sweetness  and  a  freshness,  a 
naturalness  and  a  certainty,  which  places  'The  Lilac  Sunbonnet'  among  the  best 
stories  of  the  time." — New  York  Mail  and  Exfress. 

"  In  its  own  line  this  little  love  story  can  hardly  be  excelled.  It  is  a  pastoral,  an 
idyl— the  story  of  love  and  courtship  and  marriaee  of  a  fine  young  man  and  a  lovely 
girl— no  more.  But  it  is  told  in  so  thoroughly  delightful  a  manner,  with  such  playiul 
humor,  such  delicate  fancy,  such  true  and  sympathetic  feeling,  that  nothing  more 
could  be  ilesired." — Boston  Traveller. 

"  A  charming  love  story,  redolent  of  the  banks  and  braes  and  lochs  and  pines, 
healthy  to  the  co-e,  the  love  that  God  made  for  man  and  woman's  first  glimpse  of  para- 
dise, and  a  constant  reminder  of  it."— San  Francisco  Call. 


New  York :  D.  APPLETON  &  CO.,  72  Fifth  Avenue. 


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